


Howling At The Moon

by missgardian



Series: Wolves [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, F/M, Gen, Injury, Morally Grey Harry Potter, My own version of werewolves, Parseltongue, Pre-Hogwarts, Prologue, Snakes, Violence, Werewolf Harry Potter, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 41,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22088044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missgardian/pseuds/missgardian
Summary: Before Harry James Potter went to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he was merely just a ten year old boy who was starting to realise he might have much bigger problems than his bossy aunt and uncle and his stupid cousin. He was starting to wonder why he's been feeling kinda sickly ever since he got attacked by that massive rabid dog that was the size of a wolf! And why the grass snake that he befriended says he smells kinda funky.Maybe he's not up to date on his injections and he's caught flees? Can that cause the moonlight to burn his skin? Surely it would be the hot sunlight? Well, he's not a doctor after all. So it's probably nothing...
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore & Harry Potter, Dudley Dursley & Harry Potter, Petunia Evans Dursley & Harry Potter, Petunia Evans Dursley/Vernon Dursley, Rubeus Hagrid & Harry Potter, Vernon Dursley & Harry Potter
Series: Wolves [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589911
Comments: 120
Kudos: 683





	1. The Attack

**Author's Note:**

> Or my own version of werewolves in HP where Harry gets turned before he goes to Hogwarts and has to deal with the consequences of it all and keep his secrets, alongside trying to get away from a maniac trying to kill him. 
> 
> Follows canon, just with some differences. This is just a prequel, which will be part of a Wolves series, continuing the whole HP storyline :)

Harry wasn't just your average little boy, no matter how much he liked to try and tell himself that. His family would remind him of it every day. 

Whether it was his uncle shouting at him for not answering the door quick enough and almost missing the post despite the fact he could get up and answer the door himself, his aunt yelling at him for burning the food despite the fact that he could just barely reach the cooker on his tip toes, or his stupid cousin pushing him down the stairs just so he could have a laugh. 

God, he hated them all. But he was stuck with them and had nowhere to go. He didn't have any other relatives that he knew of, his parents were dead. They'd died in a car crash they'd caused when he was a baby because they were drunk and it left a stupid scar on his head. He doesn't remember it but that's what his aunt told him so it must be true. 

He doesn't think it's fair that he gets locked away in his cupboard or doesn't get allowed food just because he does something they deem 'freakish'. What does that mean?

He turned a teacher's hair blue at school once but that was just because he was upset, doesn't that happen to everyone? Isn't that normal? He just wanted to cheer himself up and thought to himself how hilarious it would be if his annoying teacher had bright blue hair and suddenly... she did. 

Dudley was in his class and somehow knew he'd done it. When he told his parents, they flipped out and locked Harry away in the cupboard he calls his bedroom for days. The whole time all he thought was, 'what did I do wrong?' 

There was never any point in asking though because he never got any proper answers. It was always the same. 'You're just abnormal. You don't belong here. You're just like _them._ ' He doesn't know who they are but there's no point in ever thinking about it when it's pointless. 

Today he just wanted to have a relaxing day, he was always so tired, even if it meant just staying in his cupboard just for once, but as always that proved to never be the case. His aunt came barging downstairs and slammed several times on his door waking him up from an uncomfortable sleep. 

"Get up now, boy! You've got breakfast to make. Five minutes, chop chop!" She bellowed and unlocked the latch before walking off all snooty like, as if she was she was the bloody Queen herself and he was the servant. 

It felt like that most of the time anyways.

He groaned and stretched before beginning to stand and head out the door when suddenly he was thrown back inside by a large Dudley slamming into him and throwing him back onto his lump of a mattress. 

"Watch where you're going, cousin!" Dudley yelled and took off towards the kitchen, most likely to tell on him and say he pushed him to get him into trouble.

Harry scoffed and got back up, grumpily heading into the kitchen to begin working on breakfast. His hand-me-down pyjamas hung loosely over his small frame and he always had to roll the sleeves of his jumper up several times to stop it from catching fire on the stove. 

"Good morning, aunt Petunia." He said softly as he did every morning. Despite the fact that she clearly hated him, she still demanded that he showed respect and that meant silly manners, even if he got none back. 

"Enough chit chat, start working on that bacon." She pointed to the fridge and Harry nodded once, running to the fridge to get the bacon and eggs she knew uncle Vernon would want, too.

"Yes, aunt Petunia." He popped the food into frying pans and some toast into the toaster and began cooking for several minutes, Dudley watching cartoons in the living room with his mother cooing at him like he was the sweetest thing on the planet. As if.

Soon enough the breakfast was ready and he set it all out onto plates for his cousin, aunt and uncle, only just managing to grab a few bits for himself as his aunt snatched the plates away from him with a glare. 

Uncle Vernon decided at that moment to come downstairs fully dressed when he smelled food and smiled happily. "Ah, Petunia darling! Did you make a lovely breakfast?" He pecked her on the cheek and she smiled before she sat at the table and narrowed her eyes at her nephew again who was cleaning up. 

"No dear, it was Harry as usual." She said with distaste in her voice. 

Uncle Vernon's happy face went sour and he turned on Harry. "Well then, it better be good boy." He scowled and started eating at a greedy pace just like his fat son. 

Harry rolled his eyes at them all, deciding to let them finish up what they were doing whilst he got down to the housework. He knew aunt Petunia would get mad at him for not doing it sooner so best to just get it over with to keep her happy. 

He started hoovering up the floor and opening up the blinds to let the fresh sunlight in. He sprayed the tabletops with furniture polish and the whole placed smelled neat. He placed discarded shoes and clothes away until everything looked spotless. He heard plates clattering and went back to the kitchen to see they'd all finished their breakfast, finally. Once he'd gotten all the dishes sparkly clean he finally allowed himself to relax into a chair. 

He heard uncle Vernon mumbling to aunt Petunia in the doorway and peeked his head around the corner to see. 

"I'll see you later, dear. Have a good day at work!" Aunt Petunia said with a pleasant smile, waving at her husband as he wobbled out the house cheerfully and waved.

Harry rolled his eyes. They acted so sweet to the public eye, the picture perfect family, but behind closed doors it was something else entirely. And apparently it was all his fault. He didn't have enough time to get lost in his thoughts as suddenly aunt Petunia swung her head around and glared at him after she closed the door. 

"Like to eavesdrop, do you?" She spat at him. Harry gulped and shook his head. She scoffed and crossed her arms. "You just get weirder and weirder as the days go by. Well, you know what? Here's what you can do to make it up to me for being so bloody rude!" She stalked off to the kitchen and rummaged through some cupboards to find a shovel and threw it at him. "Go weed the garden and _don't_ ruin the plants!" She snapped and pointed to the front door again.

Harry sighed internally and kept his eyes focused on the shovel. He's used to doing this, he's quite good at it actually. But it would be nice to actually be asked rather than forced for once. He went outside and was immediately hit by the hot bright sunlight, luckily enough his slightly cracked glasses protected him from some of the rays hurting his eyes. The jumper he was still wearing became quite warm and he had to take it off. He was hiding round the side of the house near the bushes anyway so it's not like anyone could see just how malnourished he really was. No ten year old should look this scrawny. 

He was going to be eleven soon and he still looked like an eight year old. 

Well, maybe he might get a tan. Just thinking of the positives. 

He spent about half an hour pulling dead weeds and leaves from plants when suddenly he heard a hiss from nearby. He went rigid and slowly turned his head, gulping when he saw a giant snake. 

**"Giant rodents, too big to eat. Probably too disgusting, too. Where can I find a decent rat or mouse? That toad was definitely a disappointment, was too squishy for my taste..."**

Harry's mouth dropped open wide when he heard it. Was that snake talking?! 

**"Um... excuse me? Are you..."** He mumbled quietly to himself, too scared to speak up and approach the thing. What if he bites him? Although he did say he doesn't want to eat rodents like him, no matter how offensive that is. What's he talking about? He's probably hallucinating from the hot weather. Snakes don't talk, do they?

**"You can... understand me?"** The snake hissed again, making Harry gulp and nervously nod. **”I've never met a speaker before, how fascinating!"**

If Harry didn't know any better, he'd say the snake sounded excited. He didn't say anything again, just nodded. The snake actually seemed to _huff_ of all bloody things and got up closer to him. 

**”Speak, youngling. I know you can. You're just afraid, but I promise I won't bite."** He did seem quite friendly by now considering he showed no signs of jumping on him. **”What is your name?"**

Harry cleared his throat and finally decided to speak up. **"Harry, my name is Harry. What's yours?"**

**"Nice to meet you Harry."** The snake bowed his head in what seemed like a greeting, considering he couldn't shake hands. **"As for me, I have no name."**

**"No name? But how do you and other snakes know who's who? Do you even have other snake friends?"** Harry asked confused. Does he have an owner?

**"We identify each other by smell, youngling. Now I can identify you by your smell. See?"** He said happily.

Huh, interesting. **”Well do you have an owner? Like, are you a pet to a human?"**

The snake shook his head and seemed to sigh irritability. **”No, I live amongst the wilderness. Recently, I was just happily roaming in the grass and these people start poking me with sticks and throwing things at me. Saying I'm freaky and weird. They ruined my nest and drove me away from home. Now I have no food and must find a new home."** He sounded sad by the end.

Harry felt a pang of sympathy for the snake. All he wanted to do was live his best life in the grass and instead he gets abused by nasty people who deem him different and odd. People who treat him like he's nothing. That's totally unfair. Now he's lonely and starving. Harry knows all too well what that's like. He'd offer to take him in with him but he could never sneak a snake into the Dursley's, and he's a grass snake. He wouldn't do well indoors. The most he could do is help him find a new home and get some food. 

**"Tell you what. How about you come with me and I'll help you look for some new safe places where you can build a new home. We'll get you a good food supply too."** Harry smiled at the snake and gently reached out to stroke a finger over his scales. He seemed to like it as he slithered closer to him.

**"You'd really do that? For me, youngling? I am merely just a snake."** He sounded so confused yet hopeful and Harry's mind was definitely made up.

**"Anything for a friend."** Harry said boldly with a cheeky grin. The snake bounced up and down happily which made him laugh. 

It may seem odd to other people, but this was the first friend Harry's ever had, even if he's a snake and therefore this was the happiest he's ever felt himself be. The snake was kind and understanding, that was enough for him.

**"I wish I could help you right now but my aunt will freak out if I leave without finishing the garden."** Harry thought to himself for a second before nodding. **"Once I'm done, I can make an excuse and we can leave together. I know plenty of places that'll be good to look at."**

**"Sounds good to me, youngling."** The snake hissed. **"I don't like the sound of this aunt person. She sounds an awful lot like my human people. The people that freak out when I do something they don't like..."** he trailed off knowingly. He was surprisingly perceptive for a snake.

**"Ditto."** Harry sighed. Suddenly a thought popped up into Harry's head, one he never thought to ask before, but now he's past the shock of it all, it seems a good place to begin. **"How can I talk to you anyway? You said you never met a speaker before."**

**"Because you have the rare magical ability, that's why."** The snake said as if it were the most simple thing ever.

For the second time that morning, Harry's mouth dropped open. Magic. _Magic. **"Magic?!"**_

**"Well yes. It's a special ability only those with the ancient gift have. A very unique and special ability, you are lucky to have it."** The snake said like it was proud of him.

**"Ancient gift? What on Earth is that?"** Harry asked in shock. What was going on?

**"Wizardry, youngling. It's what you are."** The snake was eyeing him strangely. **"You do know that, don't you?"** It asked slowly.

**"No! I didn't know that at all! I never even knew magic existed. That must be why aunt Petunia doesn't like me using the 'm' word..."** he mumbled to himself. Any time he ever said it, whether it was to do with pranks, Halloween or magicians, she would freak out. Maybe that's why she thinks he's a freak.

**"I'm really wanting to bite this aunt Petunia lady now."** The snake hissed angrily, clearly displeased at his speaker being withheld such vital information. 

**"No, don't! I don't want you to get into trouble."** He said stroking his scales, calming him.

The snake hissed softly and nodded. **”Anything for you, youngling."**

Harry relaxed and thought for a moment. **"That must be why I can make things float. And turn my teacher's hair blue! And grow my hair back after aunt Petunia cut it all off, right?"**

**"Exactly, youngling. Because you're a wizard. I'm sad you didn't already know this."** The snake sighed disappointed on his behalf. 

They continued to talk for a while longer until Harry had to go back indoors and cook lunch for Dudley. The snake promised he'd come back later once he'd finished his own hunt, he had to go searching for some nice rats or mice now. 

Overall, the conversation he had with a snake in just a couple of hours left Harry with far more answers than he's ever gotten in his life from his human relatives in nearly ten years.

* * *

Harry's stomach churned as he waited for Dudley to finish the lunch he made for him. He waited patiently tapping his foot against the floor and stared out the window at the sun. Once Dudley dumped the plate into the sink, Harry began cleaning until it was shiny and put it away. 

He nervously wrung his hands together and played with the sleeves of his large shirt he was now wearing and slowly approached his aunt who was in the living room watching tv, softly clearing his throat to get her attention. 

"Um, aunt Petunia?" He asked.

She whipped her head around and glared at him. "What's wrong, boy? What do you want?" 

"Well, I was just wondering... I've finished the gardening and cleaning up. Maybe I could go for a walk?" He asked nicely. When she raised an eyebrow he continued. "It's surely better than having me and my... freakishness around, right?" He said, despite the fact that it hurt.

She huffed and nodded. "Alright then. Off you go. And don't you dare go getting into trouble! I won't have anybody coming to my door saying you're a troublemaker and embarrassing us all! Understand?" 

Harry nodded his head quickly and smiled politely, heading to the door once more. 

When he was finally outside he noticed the snake slithering around in the bushes from before. He approached him and sat down on the grass. 

**"Did you find any rats?"** He asked the snake in a hopeful voice.

The snake shook his head and gave what sounded like a sigh. **"No rats. But I found a surprisingly delicate mouse that liked to squeal as I broke it's neck and devoured it."** He said quite content.

Lovely. What an image.

Harry didn't want to waste any time and stood up, advising the snake to follow him. The snake slithered up his leg and around his shoulders, wrapping himself secure so he wouldn't fall. Once he was sure the snake wouldn't fall and hurt himself, he began walking in directions he knew of that led to nice open fields and rivers. These were places he ran to hide when Dudley and his friends would play 'Harry Hunting.'

He needed to make sure this snake got to a safe place immediately. He was small and vulnerable, half starved and in need of a home. If Harry could help in any way, he would. Sometimes he wishes someone would do the same for him. But right now isn't about him. 

They continued on their walk for about twenty minutes until they came to a nice view of some hills, green grass with flowers and trees. It looked like it was leading off into the woods.

**"What do you think? Here?"** Harry asked hopefully, wanting to make sure it was a good destination for his serpentine friend.

He let the snake down on the ground who immediately started scenting the air and bobbing his head about, slithering around the grass and through the bushes before reappearing in front of him. 

**"It is perfect, youngling! I can scent no humans around, which is exactly what I need. And I can scent vermin, like mice and rabbits which is even better for me. Bad for them, of course."** He bobbed his head and Harry laughed. 

**"Well, I'm glad you like it. And if you need anything ever again, you know where to find me. Just scent me."** He grinned and the snake nodded. 

**"Will do, youngling."** They looked at each other for a moment before Harry turned to walk away, a sad feeling in his tummy. But before he could, he heard a final hiss. **"Please visit. I like having a speaker."** The snake said in a small but hopeful voice.

Harry turned around grinned. **"Anything for a friend."** The snake then slithered off and Harry decided it was time to go home. Or back to the Dursley's. It was hardly home. Isn't home where you're loved? The only time he's felt love was from a garden snake and now he has to go live in the woods twenty minutes away so he doesn't get hurt by the humans. 

_'Why can't I do that?'_ Harry thinks to himself? _'Why can't I turn into some animal and live in the woods? Can that even happen? That'd be kinda cool. Well if I'm magical then that means it might be possible, who knows?'_

He broke his train of thought after a while once he saw the familiar shapes of all the houses and buildings from the area in which he lived. He didn't want to go back home just yet. Dudley would try to wind him up, aunt Petunia wouldn't know what to do with him and would either just make him slave away again or lock him in his cupboard. 

He'd enjoy his freedom whilst he still had it. Considering it was a once in a blue-moon kind of thing. 

Speaking of, he saw the news this morning and the weather forecast had confirmed that considering there had been no clouds in the sky during today's hot summer weather, the sky tonight would be filled with stars and the full moon. 

Harry had never seen the sky at night, at least not properly. Any time he was outside at night was either when it was during the festive holidays and the Dursley's didn't want him in the house being a Grinch so they'd either throw him in the cupboard or lock him in the backyard where he'd huddle under a table for warmth, or when they'd accidentally locked him outside at night forgetting his existence completely and he had to sleep in the bushes for warmth. 

Like a dying animal. 

He'd like to actually be able to see it properly for once. It's the little things in life that can make you happy, as they say. And all he wants right now is to stay up late enough to see the stars. He's only seen them in books or on tv, do they really sparkle? Maybe he could be an astronaut when he's older and find out. 

He doubts his aunt and uncle will let him stay up late so he'll have to think of a plan. Maybe he could find a way to unlock the door? He is magical after all. Can't he just use his powers like he does when he's upset? He'll have to practise tonight. 

He stays outside for a while, going to a park and sitting on the swing set, watching kids about his age play nearby, chasing each other and laughing. He smiles sadly to himself, wishing he had friends like that, or that he could join in. But nobody would want to be his friend, he's too weird. 

He's just minding his own business, swinging lightly back and forth when suddenly he feels a push from behind him and he falls to the floor, scraping his hands and knees. 

"Ha, loser!" He hears some kids laughing and looks around. It's some of Dudley's friends from school, the ones who think it's funny to use Harry as a rag doll. He scoffs and stands up, glaring at them and deciding to rise above it all, storming off. He turns around a corner before leaning against the wall and letting some of the angry tears spill out. 

He hates people sometimes. Why do they have to be so mean? He eventually decides to pull himself together and wipe away the tears, heading in no direction at all, as long as it's away from here. 

He can't remember how long he's been walking, all he knows is that his stomach is rumbling from the low amount of scraps he's gotten that day, his energy is low, his legs hurt from all the walking and he's not in familiar territory anymore so he finally decides to head back home. He must have been out a lot longer than he expected because as soon as he enters the front door, aunt Petunia is ripping savagely into him.

"Where have you been, boy?!" She shrieks, getting up from the chair she was sitting at and standing in front of him with her arms crossed. "I said no funny business." 

"But there wasn't any funny business, aunt Petunia." He said innocently, giving her the best puppy eyes he could. "I just went for a walk." And managed to release a hungry snake that was hiding in your bushes into the woods with a promise to come back and visit like the best of buddies that we are. 

"For hours?" She huffed. "You've missed out on too much housework. Vernon will be home soon and I expected this place to be much more proper and tidy, but no! I get left with all of this on my own. It's too much!" She sighed dramatically, turning around and heading upstairs. "I'm going to freshen up. You get cleaning and start on dinner. Now!" She ordered when he just gaped at her.

He couldn't believe this. She was so spoiled, acting as if cleaning was the most difficult task in the world. _'I'm ten and I do everything without complaint.'_ Pathetic. He sighed angrily and got to work hoovering up Dudley's mess he made with his crumbs, putting away his magazines and shoes, polishing the tables and finally starting on dinner. 

By the time uncle Vernon got home, as usual his work was not appreciated. He wasn't thanked for the cleaning duties or the fact that he was the one who put food on their plates. It was always just the same rudeness. He should be used to it by now but it still stings. 

He makes himself two pathetic little pieces of toast as he hardly has any appetite and goes to sulk in his 'room' whilst everyone eats. He could hear them all laughing and talking about their day. They don't ask about his. Good thing, too. They'd have a heart attack if they found out about his serpent friend and the fact that he realised he was a... wizard. Yup, still trying to get his head around that. 

He put all thoughts of them being rude out of his head for now. That wasn't important. What's important is what he's going to do about the lock, how's he going to open it? He needs to start practising or he'll be stuck in there all night and miss seeing the stars and then he'll regret it.

He quietly closes his door and concentrates hard on the lock on the outside. He gives himself a headache in doing so but keeps pushing himself. All he keeps telling himself is _'just imagine it closed'_ and then suddenly it was. He'd wanted it shut so badly it actually happened. He guesses he just had to need it badly enough. He rubbed his sore eyes behind his cracked glasses and tried one more time, concentrating on the lock once more, thinking to himself _'just imagine it open’_ and then suddenly the latch unlocked. 

He grinned triumphantly to himself and leaned back against the wall inside his cupboard, picking at his toast and waiting for his relatives to finish eating so he could clean up their mess. 

When he eventually got around to doing it, he rolled his eyes ignoring their bickering at him as usual. 

"Mum, dad, can I go out and see Piers?" Dudley asked excitedly from inside the living room, looking towards the front door. "I want to go meet him at the park, you know he likes to hang out there." 

Petunia smiled sweetly at him and nodded. "Of course, Dudleykins. Just make sure to be careful." She ruffled his hair before he left the house and then turned her glare on him as the door shut behind him. "Now you. Are you finished with your cleaning up?" 

Harry nodded quickly, gesturing to the clean plates he'd put away and the table top which was now polished. 

"Good, well there's nothing else for you here. Go to the cupboard for the rest of the evening. Don't come out unless you're called, understand?" 

"But what if I need the bathroom?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow. It was so hard not to get sassy sometimes, even if it ended with punishment. 

"Don't try and get smart, young man." She scolded and pointed to the hallway. "Go, now."

Harry huffed and headed in the direction of the small cupboard, cursing internally the whole way and climbed inside, collapsing on his lump of a mattress and cringing at the slam of the door behind him and the squeak of the latch as it closed.

He heard her footsteps walk away and turned on the little light above his head, deciding that he shouldn't even bother trying to get some extra couple hours of sleep in, despite the fact that he was exhausted. It wouldn't come, considering Dudley would be back home soon and would pester him by banging on the door and would stay up late with uncle Vernon, both of which would munch loudly on snacks and laugh at stuff on tv considering it was the weekend. 

He decided instead to waste his time by reading some old children's books he had that Dudley never read. Not that he could, of course. Aunt Petunia tried to burn them a few times over the years but he managed to always put out the fire with just a thought when her back was turned and snatched them away. He wanted to see what the big deal was and why she hated these books so much. 

They were all relatively the same. Books about magical worlds, unicorns and dragons and mermaids. Typical childhood fantasy stuff. But if he's magical does that mean this stuff is actually real? And if aunt Petunia hates magic, is that why she tried to burn Dudley's books? Harry's always been fascinated with them. Why would she hate it all so much?

He decides to read a book that involves people fighting dragons and how they breath fire, how they fly for hundreds of miles and roar. It sounded scary and thrilling. He'd love to see one in person if they really did exist.

He doesn't know how much time had passed, all he knows is that he's gone through quite a few books now, Dudley is laughing away in the living room with his stupid fat dad and it's a lot darker outside. 

Soon enough they'll be heading upstairs and going to sleep and then Harry can make his move.

He listens in closely and hears his aunt whisper to Vernon in the living room. "I'm going to get my beauty rest, dear. Will you be alright down here with Dudley?" She says sweetly.

"Of course Petunia." He smiles, bushy moustache bouncing up. "We'll just finish watching our movie and eating our snacks then we'll be right up. Right, Dudley?" 

Dudley grinned and nodded, hugging his mum before she went upstairs. 

Harry scoffed quietly and rolled his eyes. Traitors, loyal and kind only to themselves. He's glad they have one another, they're perfect for each other. 

Harry kept himself entertained by putting away the books and listening in on the tv, something he wasn't ever really supposed to do. He heard them listening to a funny movie, he wasn't sure which one it was as he didn't watch movies, but he just knew that it was causing an uproar of laughter in the next room. He wished he could laugh like that, he never has, does it feel nice?

Eventually, after a while they decided to turn off the tv and go to bed, the couch creaking loudly as they got up from it and packets of crisps and chocolate bars falling to the ground, along with cans of juice, all waiting to be picked up by Harry first thing in the morning. Ugh.

When he heard their loud footsteps finally leave the staircase and head up onto the top landing, honestly he's surprised they haven't fallen through the stairs and crushed him to death by now, he waits patiently for them to get into bed and relax. They're both heavy sleepers and snore quite loud, it tends to keep Harry awake as it echoes through the house. Even dear old aunt Petunia has to take her nightly sleeping pills. 

They settle down after about ten minutes and Harry lets out a deep breath. Finally, he can have his alone time to do as he pleases. He remembers what he thought before. _'Just think it open'_ as he stared intently at the latch on the outside of the cupboard. He's a wizard, for heavens sake. He should be able to do this, he shouldn't be locked away, he should be allowed to do his magic and not be called freaky. He has magic for a reason. It's a gift, it's what his snake friend said, he trusts his friend! He's been kind, he's been helpful. He's not treated him like a freak. 

He clenched his fists tightly and narrowed his eyes, biting his lip hard until...

Click.

It worked! The latch unlocked. He rubbed at his eyes and groaned quietly, he now has a massive headache, but it's totally worth it. 

After a few steady breaths, he slowly pushes the door open and takes some shaky steps out. This is new and unfamiliar, he's nervously looking around to see if anyone will randomly pop out of nowhere and grab him but of course they don't. Aunt Petunia is passed out on pills and uncle Vernon and cousin Dudley ate themselves to sleep. 

After realising this, he smiles triumphantly to himself and stands taller, no longer trying to curl up in on himself out of fear. There's nothing to be scared of. Nobody knows. He sneaks to the kitchen where he knows aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon keep their backdoor key, sitting inside an old drawer. He opens it and heads to the door, quietly unlocking it and getting hit in the face with a gust of nightly fresh air.

It's a lot cooler than earlier, about ten degrees Celsius cooler, but it's rather nice actually. He shuts the door behind him to stop a draft and slowly steps out into the back garden, looking up at the sky in wonder. It's pitch black but the starts are twinkling and look like the glitter he plays with at school during arts and crafts time. It's surreal and amazing. Then to top it all off, right there, in front of him, a massive full moon. You can't miss it. It's so big and white, the shine of it gleaming on the ground and casting a shadow. It's like a dark nightly sun.

"Wow." He breaths out, breath coming out with some mist. He walks around to the front of the house and looks up and down the long street. 

All the lights in the houses are off as everyone is asleep, the street is lit up merely by the sky and street lamps. He turns his head and looks back at the house once more before taking off. 

He's only wearing Dudley's large shirt from earlier and his baggy trousers which all hung far too loose on him and some worn out shoes which hurt his feet, but he doesn't care. He runs and runs, excitement filling him, looking up at the sky as if he's chasing the stars.

He runs until he's out of breath and has to stop. He realises he's left the neighbourhood and is now someplace he's only been to a couple of times before, when he needed to hide from Dudley and his friends from Harry Hunting. 

It's a big field with a bridge and a river that flows beneath it. He likes to sit underneath the bridge and let his feet dip in the water sometimes. It helps make them feel better after he's been running for what feels like hours.

He's on the top of the bridge and staring down at the water that is flowing beneath him. It won't be too cold, warm from the summer air. _'Maybe I should go in for a swim?'_ he thinks to himself boldly. 

He's not allowed baths at home, only two minute freezing cold showers. It's horrible. Nobody is around, it's quiet and peaceful. He deserves some relaxation. 

He jumps up and down on the spot excitedly but just as he goes to lift up his shirt, he hears it. 

Snap.

He hears twigs cracking somewhere in the distance behind him, it sounds like it's coming from within the fields bushes. He starts to panic, wondering if he's going to get kidnapped. Then again, they'd probably just bring him back. 

He runs and hides underneath the bridge where the water is, pushing himself right back against the wall as far as possible and crouching down, trying to appear as small and invisible as he can so nobody can see him. 

After about a minute of hiding he hears nothing more so he decides to come out of hiding. He slowly creeps up the side of the bridge, peeking round the edge and checking the corner of his eye every few seconds before trying to make it back up to the top of the bridge. 

He makes it about halfway before he hears a loud roar and freezes, blood running cold. Then something giant jumps out of the bushes and tackles him to the ground. He shuts his eyes out of fear, screaming for help that he doesn't think will come. The very few times he managed to open his eyes, all he can see is a big black animal lying on top of him. It has long claws and golden eyes with razor sharp teeth. 

It must be some kind of rabid dog. Once he gets back up he should go get someone to help the poor thing. It might need to see a vet. But he can hardly lift his head anymore or even open his eyes.

The, which he assumes is a dog, has scratched its claws all the way down the left side of his face from his left eye, right down his cheek, stopping halfway to his jaw, where his mouth nearly is, adding to the already nasty scar he had on his head. He's lucky he had his eyes closed otherwise he would have been blinded. 

He also felt its massive claws slice right through his shirt and all the way across his chest, leaving another bloody trail from his left shoulder to his right hipbone. All of it burns, it won't stop. He feels like he's on fire, it's agony. All he can do is cry and beg for help inside his own head because he can't get the words out. 

_'Please, if someone is out there, anyone at all, please help me!'_

Nobody answers, of course they don't. They never do. He struggles to get away in a moment of bravery and determination, hoisting himself up on his elbows and dragging his body away from the rabid dog. Just as he thinks he might make it, the thing lunges at him again and sinks it's large teeth right into the right side of his rib cage and all Harry can do is scream, trying to pull the dog off him by its short fur. 

It glares at him with hatred and lets out a loud roar, at that moment Harry is sure it's going to kill him, he's prepared for it. He closes his eyes and thinks of happy places, thinks of peace and quiet he'll finally get. 

Suddenly, the dog gets off him and huffs, taking off in the field at a quick pace. He opens his eyes cautiously and stares after it, wondering what happened to make it go away. He looks around and sees a bright light from above the bridge.

There's a parked car and people yelling down at him, looking at each other frantic and talking about a hospital. But he can hardly keep up as his head starts falling to the side and his vision starts getting blurry.

He faintly sees the image of a tall man struggling to get to him and gently picking him up, taking him back to his car and placing him in the backseat where his, he presumes wife, is fussing over him and making sure he's still breathing. He thinks he hears them talking about an animal attack, calling him 'poor thing' and talking about finding his parents contact information and calling them immediately.

He passes out when he hears more voices all muffled over each other and sees bright lights above him, indicating he's in a building. Probably a hospital. 

The Dursley's were going to kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and leave kudos if you like what you read <3


	2. A Hospital Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hospital, some new bodily functions and very important brand new information!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter already? Yay, go me! 
> 
> Towards the end with aunt Petunia is basically just the conversation the Dursley’s had with Harry and Hagrid, it just drifts from canon. You’ll see :)

The first thing Harry hears when he wakes up from whatever nightmare he just had was a loud beeping coming from his right side. It was echoing as if throughout a large room. The room was also bright, as if there were large luminescent lights above him. 

He wearily blinked his eyes open, only to discover he could only open his right eye. He gently touched his face and realised there was a bandage over his left eye and half his face. He looked down at himself and noticed he was in fact wearing hospital clothes and was laying in a hospital bed and when he lifted up the gown, he saw his entire torso covered with thick white bandages, too.

So the nightmare he had about the animal attack was real. He thought it was just his vivid imagination. It hurt so bad, though. How did he get here? Those people rescued him, didn't they? They must have heard his pleas for help, after all. He must thank them, if he gets the chance.

Wait, what time is it? Is it still night time? Is it the next day? How will he get home? What will the Dursley's think? Will they know, will they be worried? Worse. Will they be mad? Of course they will be. They specifically didn't want him to cause trouble. But in his defence, he didn't go asking for this to happen. 

Just then, the door opened and in walked a young looking nurse who smiled at him once she saw he was awake. 

"Finally, you're awake! I was wondering when you'd pop back into the land of the living." She joked around, as if to lighten the tension in the room, given the situation. Harry appreciated it. "You're quite the fighter, y'know." She looked quite proud of him. 

"Um, thank you..." He mumbled shyly. "What... um, happened exactly?" He asked confused, scratching the back of his head. 

"Oh, well it appears that you got attacked by what appears to be either some large rabid dog or a bear that must live out in the forest, according to the people who brought you in here. Very uncommon for them to approach people nearby, but maybe it was just going on a stroll and looking for a meal and unfortunately you got caught in the crossfire." She told him sympathetically. "You are pretty small, after all." 

Harry blushed and shrugged. "I guess." He then remembered the people from before. "Where did those people go? Are they still here?" 

The nurse smiled at him and sat down on the edge of his bed, careful not to disturb his wounds. "No, they left a little while ago. They knew you'd be grateful, though. And they said that they hope you get much better." She grinned at him and he nodded back. "Now, down to the important stuff."

Harry sat up a bit straighter, not knowing what to expect. Was he in trouble over something? He always was. He really didn't mean it, it wasn't his fault! "O-okay. What stuff?" He stuttered out.

"Well, we don't know anything about you. How old are you? What's your name?" She asked casually.

Oh. "I'm ten. Nearly eleven." He blushed when she looked him over and raised an eyebrow. Yes, he's scrawny, he gets it. "My name's Harry."

She smiled at him and got out a clipboard. "Alright Harry, my name is Paige. I'm a nurse here and I guarantee you can trust me with your safety. Okay?" He nodded politely at her and she smiled at him. “So, do you have parents? Any contact information? We really need to get in touch with them right away so they can come collect you and take you home. You are a child, after all. Plus, they must be really worried." 

Harry had to hide an eye roll, as if. They probably didn't even notice he was gone. 

"I live with my aunt and uncle, actually." She nodded and asked for their contact details. Harry thought about lying at first but what would be the point? When nobody would show up she'd get worried and start asking even more questions. He sucked it up and just told her his address and telephone number. She wrote it down and turned to him again.

"We must also discuss what lead to this situation, after all. You're ten, what on Earth were you doing out in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere?" She asked with concern. 

Harry shrugged and decided to go with a slight bluff. "I like to go out on walks. My aunt and uncle don't know, it's my own little secret. I do it when they go to bed, I know where they hide the key. I'll definitely make sure not to do it again though, I promise." He said with as much childlike sincerity as he could and a small smile.

She seemed to be smitten with him because she nodded and smiled. "Good boy. We don't want you getting hurt any more, you're already banged up enough as it is." 

_'Yeah, and as soon as the Dursley's get here I'm probably going to end up dead. Never mind a hospital, I'm going to need a casket.'_

"We gave you a tetanus shot, some antibiotics, pain medication and rabies injections, all to be on the safe side. I hope that's okay with you?" She asked cautiously.

Harry nodded politely. He trusts her and definitely doesn't want any kind of weird flea ridden disease. 

She looked instantly relieved at that. "Good." She saw him picking at his bandages on his torso and gently pulled his hands away, shaking her head. "Try not to touch them. We did manage to stop the bleeding after a while. They were pretty deep and we don't know if they'll scar or not..." she trailed off. 

"It's fine." Harry said nonchalantly.

Her eyes went wide. "I-I'm sorry?"

"It's fine, really. Looks don't matter to me. If you're going to say something about surgery, just forget it. I already had a stupid scar on my head anyway, I'm used to them." He mumbled.

"Yes, I noticed that one. How did that happen?" She eyed the other scar visible on his forehead.

"I got into an accident when I was a baby, it left that scar. Doesn't matter." He shrugged it off. Aunt Petunia didn't really talk about it and he didn't care to ask. 

Nurse Paige must have caught on because she nodded and let it go, standing up. "Alright then, I'm going to go call your aunt and uncle to come collect you, okay? You just rest." She turned to walk away when he nodded but suddenly stopped as if she remembered something. "Oh, I almost forgot." She reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out a plastic bag which contained his clothes. "Your things." She smiled at him. 

"Thank you." He said sincerely.

"No problem. Although..." she trailed off uncertainly. "Your glasses, they kinda got, well..." 

Harry pulled out his glasses from within the bag and noticed that the lenses had completely smashed, the frame was bent and one of the legs was snapped right off. 

That's when he also noticed something. He'd been able to talk to Nurse Paige this entire time without even a fuss. Despite the fact that he has one eye bandaged up like a pirate, he can still see perfectly out of his freed one. No sign of blurriness at all. He usually feels like he's looking under a waterfall until he puts on his glasses, his eyesight is really awful. Why has it magically just fixed itself? Was it magic? Did he do that? Why didn't he do that years ago?

"Oh, um. It's fine, I didn't really need them that much anyway." He bluffed again, with a small shrug. 

She nodded at him and left the room, giving Harry some peace and quiet. What happened whilst he was unconscious? What was that thing? So many questions without answers. 

He looks down at the glasses and around the room, taking everything in. Maybe he should go back to the snake and ask for answers, he seems to know more about this stuff than he does. Can being super scared make you do certain kinds of magic like healing your eyesight? Or will it just wear off eventually? He kind of hope it doesn't, he doubts he Dursley's will buy him a new pair of glasses.

His stomach churns at the thought of them, they're coming here and they're going to be madder than ever. He's never going to be allowed out of his cupboard. He clutches hard at his stomach as it twists painfully. Then it lets out a large grumble. Okay, it really is churning. Maybe it's more than nausea, he feels kinda hungry. 

' _Well of course I do. I never eat.'_ He scoffs to himself and staggers slowly out of bed, heading to the door barefoot. He opens the door and peeks his head around the corner. _'Maybe I could find a cafeteria and ask for some food? Or tell a nurse.'_ He thinks as he walks out the door and down one of the halls. 

He doesn't know where he's going, he knows he shouldn't even be leaving the room, but he can't stop fidgeting and the last thing he wants is to end up puking the second the Dursley's walk in the door. 

Suddenly, his nose is hit full force with a powerful scent. It's coming from somewhere in the distance, if he can just follow it he'll be able to find it and all his problems will go away. He feels like he's in a trance as he walks quickly down the hallways and towards giant doors that enter to what appear to be a kitchen. He throws the doors open and sees people, so he sneaks quietly into the back of the kitchen where the smell is most definitely coming from. 

It looks like it's coming from the direction of the fridges. He heads there, despite the fact that he starts shivering like mad because he's cold. The scent gets stronger and more intoxicating though, so it hardly matters. Eventually he reaches a fridge where the door is open and inside he sees, shockingly enough to his own eyes, red raw meat. 

Not shocking to see in a kitchen, of course. But it's just shocking that that's what he was smelling, and from so far away. Maybe he really was hungry. This is what's making him salivate right now and what's making his hands shake as he desperately wants to reach out and grab the container. Eventually his churning stomach makes him double over and whimper and all he can do is clutch at his belly. He needs to eat something but everything else seems unappetising. This in front of him though, seems _very_ appetising. 

He loses any amount of self control he has left, it hurts too bad, he's already injured and he just wants it all to stop before his relatives get here and he won’t get any food at all from them. He grabs the container, rips the lid off until it falls to the floor, sloppily grabs pieces of meat with his hands and starts eating like what people would call a savage. There's nothing polite about it, no etiquette, no manners. Just shoving it all in greedily as fast as he can, blood dripping down his chin and hands and he's not even ashamed to admit that he's groaning as he does so.

The pain in his stomach immediately disappears, his headaches and nausea go away, he's less tired and his injuries, which were beginning to sting a little bit from moving so much, immediately to numb. He also gets an elated and happy feeling running through his body like adrenaline and euphoria, like he could run for hours and nothing could stop him. He feels energised. He feels like he can take on the world. 

Once he's done, he sits the container down on a table and just licks the blood off his fingers, sighing happily. He should be completely grossed out at what he just done but he can't bring himself to care. That can't even be healthy, can it? Well he's in a hospital, so if he gets sick, the doctors can help. But why would he get sick? He feels great! 

Suddenly, he's broken out of his trance by voices and realises the cooks are coming so he has to get out of here. He puts the empty container in the bin and sneaks out the door quickly, suddenly realising he's a lot more faster than he was before. He felt sluggish and like his body would break before he came in here, now he feels like he has superpowers and can move at the speed of lightening. 

He moves quickly towards his room again, walking as tall and confident as a ten year old can. Some people give him funny looks whilst others just ignore him. He smiles at each person, though. He's in such a good mood, he can totally handle the Dursley's now. 

When he gets into his room, he quickly jumps up into the bed and gets comfy, acting as if he never left in the first place. He checked to see if he got any food or blood on his clothes but thankfully he licked it all away before it could stain, otherwise people would think he got hurt again. 

He sits there for a while just getting lost in his own thoughts, thinking maybe he should go outside on the grounds and take a stroll or go for a walk around the hospital, maybe go talk to one of the nurses? He's so bored just waiting here. But that's when it happens. 

In walks Nurse Paige with a small smile on her face and behind her is one of Harry's worst nightmares. The Satan reincarnate, herself. His aunt Petunia who decided to show up and is currently glaring at him with hatred in her ugly eyes. 

"Harry, you're looking so much better than when I left you earlier. How are you feeling?" Nurse Paige asked kindly.

"I'm feeling so much better, honestly." He said sincerely. 

"That's great!" Nurse Paige grinned. "Now, I already told your aunt everything we discussed before. She understands completely that this wasn't your fault, you poor thing." She said sympathetically. "But you really mustn't run off like that again." She said with a serious but concerned tone. Harry nodded at her.

"Yes, really. Do not _ever_ run off like that again. _Ever._ " Aunt Petunia's warning, however, had far more aggression. He could tell she was mad and was doing everything in her power not to blow right up like a bomb in public. What an embarrassment that would be. 

Harry noticed her icy cold glare transfixed right on him and in a moment of anger, glared right back. She clenched her fists tightly and he inwardly smirked, turning back towards the nurse.

"Thank you for everything you've done. I probably would have died if it weren't for your help." He said with a smile.

"That's what we're all here for." She grinned. She then looked over his bandages and asked him to stand up. He did so without complaint. "I'm going to unwrap these now, Harry. You tell me if they hurt at all. You don't have to look if you don't want to." She assured him, as if he'd feel self conscious.

He just nodded and held still as she undid the bandages around his torso first after lifting up his gown, thank god he was wearing underwear. 

It didn't hurt one bit but she still seemed intent on being gentle, bless her heart. 

She dumped the bloodied bandages in a bin and heard aunt Petunia let out a gag. He looked at her and saw her with her hand over her mouth. He glared at her again, she was treating him like a freak show. It was just some wounds, how bad could it be?

He looked down at where his chest was and where Nurse Paige was currently dabbing at it with some kind of cleaning solution and his eyes went wide. 

His entire chest was practically torn open, massive claw marks all the way across that looked gnarly. The nurse tutted and shook her head, applying some kind of cream and bandaging him up again. 

"We considered giving you stitches but it didn't seem bad enough for that, it was just incredibly bloody. We figured some bandages and pressure would do the trick. Maybe now we were wrong." Nurse Paige trailed off sadly. 

"I told you, it's fine, I don't mind." He assured her with a smile. "Honestly." 

She nodded and stood up once she was done, going for the bandages on his head. She undid them slowly until they all fell away, bloodied up and thrown in the bin. 

She dabbed gently at the left side of his face with some of the stuff from before and he yet again heard aunt Petunia let out a gag. 

He huffed under his breath at her and clenched his fists. _'Just ignore her, she's trying to make you feel like even more of a freak.'_

When the nurse was done she stood back and held out a small mirror. "Do you want to see?" 

Harry swallowed and lifted the mirror up to see his face. The right side of his face was perfectly normal, except for that stupid car crash scar on his forehead. But the left side of his face was horrid. He had claw marks down his left cheek, just narrowly missing his bloody eye, how lucky. He sighed and handed the mirror back with a sad smile. 

Well, that's what makeup is for, right? To cover up things like this.

The nurse applied some cream to his face and put the fresh bandages back on. He thanked her when she was done. She then told him that for the next few weeks, he'll have to do this himself at home in order for it to heal properly and stop infection. Once he and a begrudging aunt Petunia both agreed, though he doubt she'd keep her word, she told him he could now get dressed and go home. She told him that it would be a good idea to get some rest as he has been in a hospital for a few hours and that can be pretty stressful for a person. No kidding.

Once Harry was changed back into different clothes that aunt Petunia had brought for him, they were headed out the hospital and straight for the car. She didn't look back at him once, just kept a straight face and slammed the car door shut behind her when she got in.

Harry climbed in the backseat, wanting to be as far away from her as possible. They drove home in complete silence, much to his astonishment. He expected her to explode on him but she remained relatively calm. Although her knuckles were pure white with the death grip she had on the steering wheel. 

By the time they got home, she stormed out of the car and straight into the house, leaving Harry to hurry along behind her before he got locked out. When they entered the threshold of the house, she dragged him straight into the kitchen and forced him to sit in one of the chairs at the table. She sat across from him and glared for about a minute before breaking eye contact and scoffing. 

Harry looked around for any signs of uncle Vernon or Dudley, it seemed quite quiet. As if reading his mind, aunt Petunia spoke up.

"Vernon and Dudley aren't home, they're out spending the day together. When you were gone this morning, I told them I sent you to go shopping because I knew you'd somehow done something." She spat. "I didn't want to give either one of them a heart attack." Pfft, Harry disagrees. "Then I got that phone call. Thank goodness they weren't around. Especially your uncle, otherwise you'd be getting your neck rung." She glared.

Harry nodded at her, faking thankfulness, even though he just wants to get up and throw a tea cup at her. "Thank you, aunt Petunia." 

"You just have to get into trouble all the time, don't you?" She muttered to him, tapping her fingers on the table.

"I'm sorry aunt Petunia. I didn't mean to get into trouble, it just sort of..." he mumbled pathetically. "Happened."

She eyed him. "Happened? You just happened to leave the house in the middle of the night and end up near dead in a ditch after an animal attack?" She asked with a raised eyebrow. "How did you even get out anyway?" She narrowed her eyes at him.

He refused to look at her. When he felt her gaze pierce into him he sighed. He knew she wouldn't let it go. There was no point in lying. He couldn't say he picked the lock, it was impossible to do from the inside. And he couldn't say he kicked it open, the door looked completely fine. 

He gulped and continued staring at his hands in his lap. "I-I, um..." 

"Well, boy? I don't have all day? Spit it out!" She yelled, frustrated.

"I did it with my mind." He whispered. "I concentrated really hard and it happened. I unlocked it with my eyes." He looked up at her when she didn't reply and saw her face had gone pale. "Aunt Petunia? Are you okay?"

"No, no, that's not possible." She started muttering to herself and shaking her head. "What am I talking about? Of course it's possible." She spat, glaring at him. 

"What do you mean?" He asked more alert.

"You know exactly what I mean. You're just like them. Like I always knew you would be." She stood up and paced back and forth. 

"Who's them?" He gaped at her.

"Your mother, of course!" She snapped. "And that stupid husband of hers." She scowled. 

"My... my parents?" He asked in shock. "My parents could do what I could do?" Does this mean that they were also... "Magic?"

She visibly cringed at the word. "Don't say it out loud!" She snapped crossing her arms. "Yes, they were weird just like you. Just as abnormal and unnatural. My parents always thought the world of my perfect sister. It was always Lily this and Lily that." She said with bitterness. "But I was the only one who saw her for what she really was. A _freak!_ " She spat with hatred.

Harry was gaping at her, this was something he never thought he'd hear. All the times he'd heard her say that, he never once thought anything more. So this means his parents were wizards, too. Maybe if they were still around, they could have taught him magic properly.

"Wait, hold on. This means that you knew all this time and you never told me!" He said with sudden rage and stood up, too. "You've been keeping all these secrets from me. What else don't I know?" 

She glared at him but he payed no mind. He was done with playing games, he wanted answers now. 

"I kept things from you because I wanted to protect my family. Protect them from your sort. Praying every night that you wouldn't turn out like them. It was bad enough growing up with a sister like that, never mind having to deal with a nephew I didn't even want." She fumed. 

"Then why am I here?" He asked angrily. "Why didn't you just give me away if I'm such a bother?" 

She scoffed. "You think I didn't want to the second I saw you? The headmaster of the school my sister went to said I _had_ to keep you. I don't care to know why. All I know is she was an idiot for marrying that Potter and for getting herself blown up!" She spat. 

"Blown up?!" Harry screeched. "You told me my parents died in a car crash!" He was beyond angry, he felt betrayed more than ever. He felt hot tears behind his eyes but refused to let them fall. He won't give her the satisfaction.

She rolled her eyes at him and looked in the other direction, refusing to make eye contact. "Doesn't make any difference. She's gone now, so is her husband." She scoffed. "But you're still here. You should have died that night but you didn't. That's how you ended up with..." she gestured towards his head scar.

He touched it and raised an eyebrow. "So, it's not from a car crash?" 

"No, you bloody idiot!" She scoffed. "Some psychopath tried to kill you as a baby and something went wrong. They killed your parents but somehow you survived and only ended up with a scar. Everyone in your world knows your name, you're famous there. At least that's what I've been told." She shrugged.

Huh, she seems to know a lot about this Wizarding stuff for someone who hates it so much. 

"Told by who?" He asked skeptically.

"The headmaster of the school my sister went to, when he dropped you off here. His name's Albus Dumbledore, if I remember correctly. Lily used to talk about what a great wizard he was." She rolled her eyes. "Ridiculous name, if you ask me."

"Wizarding school? There's a school for people like me to go to?" He asked with wide eyes.

She winced at the look of excitement on his face. "Yes. It's called Hogwarts. It's a boarding school in Scotland where all the witches and wizards go when they turn eleven. Thankfully it was the only time my stupid sister was away from home so I didn't have to put up with her nonsense around the house." She said snootily. 

Harry didn't care for the insults at this point, all he could think of was this Hogwarts school. He wanted to go, he wanted to learn about magic. He was a wizard, after all. He should learn, shouldn't he? And if he's famous, won't he be welcomed?

"I'm nearly eleven, does this mean I'm going to go?" He asked excitedly. 

He saw her expression turn into one of horror. "No, absolutely not. Not in one million years." She shook her hands around frantically. "I won't have anymore of that nonsense in this household!" 

"But you said it yourself. When your sister was at school, you didn't have to deal with her." He raised an eyebrow. 

"Yes, well she was my parent's responsibility, not mine. They were the ones who cared about all that stuff. Not me. And I'm not going to put up with you coming back home during the holidays learning more of this rubbish and deciding to scare us all by practicing it. How do you think poor Dudley will feel if he's eating dinner and suddenly sees glasses of water floating above his head?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Well, as long as I can practice long enough, I'll make sure not to drop it on his head." He smirked.

She glared at him. "Not funny." Hah, Harry disagrees. "You're not going. End of." She said firmly as if her word was final and he'd honestly take her seriously. He'd find a way to get to this Hogwarts school, as best he can. But if he can't then he'll just have to teach himself at home. Either way he'd be learning magic. 

He nodded anyway, just to calm her and looked down at his bandages again. "Do you have the rest of the medical stuff?" 

She scoffed and threw the bag he just now noticed was sitting at the table at him. "Here. It has everything the nurse said you'll need. Take care of it yourself. You got yourself into this situation, you get yourself out." She said rudely and left the room. Surprisingly enough, she didn't ask him to cook or clean up or anything. The place looked a little messy too and it was nearing lunch time but she didn't ask anything of him so he shrugged it off and went back to the closet and gently got inside. 

Maybe she has some form of a heart in that chest somewhere, after all. Very small, of course, but still. 

He laid back in the cupboard against the wall and took deep breaths, trying to come to terms with everything he’s just learned recently. 

He’s a wizard, there’s a school called Hogwarts which teaches magic, his parents were magical and went to this school, they were killed by someone who tried to kill him and that’s how he got his scar, he’s famous in his world, the headmaster of Hogwarts was the one to make sure Harry stayed with the Dursley’s, and his aunt one hundred percent hates everything magical and will try her best to not let him go to Hogwarts. 

It’s all a lot to take in and he shakes his head to try and clear it for now. Best not to overthink too quickly, he’ll give himself a headache. Harry takes in one final deep breath and then cringes. He sniffs through his nose again and looks around inside the cupboard. It’s like he can smell one million different things at once, now that he’s finally paying attention. What the-

He can literally smell the thick mould on the floor and the dust on the walls and shelves, he can smell the dampness in the corners and on the pathetic lump of a mattress, he can smell the rust on the lamp above his head and can smell the sweat in the air. He’s usually so oblivious to it all, nose blind as they say. Considering he’s put up with it for nearly ten years. But it’s like he’s just walked into it for the first time and everything is so amplified. 

He gags and runs out, crashing into the opposite wall. He can’t stay in there. It’s disgusting, he feels disgusting. Does nobody else smell that? When did his nose get so _sensitive?_

He doesn’t know what’s going on with him. Ever since he woke up he’s been feeling a little funky. He feels strange. It’s like there’s something inside of him trying to get out but he doesn’t know what it is. Oh god, could it finally be puberty? Your body does tend to change in weird ways, doesn’t it? That could explain the sudden mood swings and appetite changes. Maybe he should read a book. He doubts aunt Petunia would let him leave the house anytime soon, though. Maybe when his wounds have healed, which the nurse said could take a few weeks. 

Until then, he’ll just deal with whatever happens. It’s probably nothing, after all. Bodies do weird things all the time, when people are hungry or stressed or tired. He’s all of these things, that’s just it. 

Give him a break, he’s only human, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and leave kudos if you like what you read <3


	3. New Senses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New senses that are overwhelming, anger issues and discovering that you smell strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my longest chapter yet, please appreciate it! 
> 
> We’re getting somewhere ahaha! Harry’s finally getting closer to finding out answers ooh.

It's been a couple of weeks since the attack and Harry's scars were looking slightly better. They no longer needed the bandages as they were no longer bloody and open, but the bruising and disfigurement was ugly, to say the least. He never took his shirt off and always swept his hair as far as he could to the left side of his face to try and cover it up, despite the fact that it's still too short. He'd also taken to wearing some hats. 

He'd thought about stealing some of aunt Petunia's makeup if they were to go out but he doubts he'd ever live to tell the tale. He also doubts she'd let him see sunlight again as he'll probably make people's eyes hurt. 

He's in the bathroom, finishing up after a freezing cold shower, when he just stares at himself in the mirror. He has a towel draped around his waist and looks at his chest and stomach. The scars stand out in the cold and they're all purple against his pale white skin. As are the ones on his face. They still have a long way to go until they fade until a more natural colour which he'll be satisfied with but right now he looks like he's taken a Sharpie and scribbled all over himself like a child. 

He touches the ones on his face and flinches. They don't hurt, they stopped hurting a while ago. Mostly it's just psychological. He gets the flashbacks of that night sometimes and recently he's been having some nightmares. But he doesn't tell aunt Petunia or uncle Vernon about them because they wouldn't care. 

Aunt Petunia just ignores him, much to his relief. She turns away from him when when she sees him as if she's afraid to look at him, like she doesn't want to see the damage done. It hurts a little but he can't say he's surprised. 

Uncle Vernon wasn't happy. To find out that they had to pay for medical supplies for his _"delinquent of a nephew"_ made his moustache nearly fall right off his top lip. He looked like he was ready to rip out Harry's hair but it wasn't until he stood up for himself and told him that if he hurt him anymore than he already was injured, that meant he had to pay for even more medical stuff, so best to leave him alone. He wasn't happy about that either. 

He was confined to his cupboard at all times, he wasn't even allowed out long enough to clean or cook. He'd come out in the morning, go to the bathroom and fix himself up, cook a small breakfast if he could for everyone out of habit and try to grab some scraps for himself before aunt Petunia just shoved him back inside. He'd hear her mumble as she cleaned the house up herself and smirked to himself. She doesn't like it either, does she? 

Whenever he was out, however, Dudley took a different approach. Instead of actively ignoring him like the plague or screaming at him like he's his worst enemy, he'd openly and gladly laugh at him and mock him, making him feel even more self conscious. 

It was always the same insults, one after the other. Dogface. Scarface. Scarhead. Even mummy, one time, because of the bandages. He has to admit though, that one was actually kind of funny because it's true. So screw you Dudley, your plan backfired! That's what he tells himself whenever he tries to bring him down. 

Harry shakes himself out of his thoughts and tears his eyes away from his reflection. He dries himself gently with the towel and gets dressed, heading downstairs. 

He smells the breakfast that aunt Petunia is cooking, she's taken on the role of chef lately. Maybe she just doesn't want him to spill everything because he can hardly lift his arms at times. She glares at him as he walks by and he heads into the living room to do a quick tidy up so she doesn't have to. It'll keep her happy and off his back.

Dudley is sitting on the sofa watching tv so Harry works around him, picking up the shoes and jackets, packets of crisps and bottles of juice from his late night snacks. 

"Move, cousin!" Dudley snaps at him, flapping his arms about aggressively. 

Harry sighs. He wasn't even in his line of sight, he deliberately did not do that as to not upset him. How could he have gotten this reaction? "Sorry, Dudley. I didn't realise your head was too _small_ to see around my body." He snapped sarcastically. 

Dudley stared at him with wide eyes and his mouth open in disbelief. He never spoke back, he usually just took it. Harry scoffed and walked on off, leaving him sitting there. He thought Dudley was going to rat him out, shout to mummy about the freak being weird or something, but surprisingly he stayed quiet. Thank god, he was getting a headache. 

He put the clothing items away and dumped the rubbish into the bin. Afterwards he went to sit on the staircase, he still didn't like spending free time in his cupboard anymore. It smelled like rotting death. 

This whole house smells kind of weird, at times. He's been noticing things, too. In the beginning it was just small things but now as the weeks go by, there are more things that appear and they tend to get stronger.

First of all, his eyesight has definitely improved, he no longer needed glasses at all. He could near enough see in the dark if he focused hard enough. Whatever happened to him that night worked wonders, despite the injuries, because the Dursley's were not in the mood to buy him new glasses and if he couldn't see then he'd not be able to get off the ground as his eyesight was that bad. But now he can freely walk around without a problem. It was great, he liked not having to worry about losing them. 

Second of all, his sense of smell has greatly improved. It's as if everything he smelled before has just increased ten times the amount. Like when animals such as snakes and dogs scent things that humans can't. He feels like that, it's such a strange way to explain because he can't understand it. He just feels it. 

Whenever he cleans the house, no matter how much anti bacterial and soap he uses, he can still smell the underlying germs. It usually comes from Dudley's room, if he's being honest. The boy is a slob. And it most _definitely_ comes from the cupboard under the stairs. 

Thirdly, what he thinks is kind of weird is his appetite. He's never really had much of an appetite before considering he'd been lacking in food for so long, his stomach just got used to the idea of not needing it. But somehow, he gets these moments where he actually understands uncle Vernon and Dudley, because all he wants to do is go into the fridge, grab food and shove it down his throat. 

At first he thought, maybe it's just because he's growing up. But when he tried to eat some bites of toast for breakfast one time, he almost threw right up in the sink. It was nauseating. That was until later on that same day when he went to make lunch and had some raw sausages in a packet, instead of frying them for Dudley, he ate them raw without thinking. 

He was glad nobody was in the kitchen to see. He would have been mortified, they all would have been. He would have been called an animal and all sorts of nasty names. But he felt instantly better. It reminded him a whole lot of the hospital kitchen incident. What was it with him and raw meat these days? 

He'd shrugged it off and cooked Dudley some proper food that day and just forgot about it. Sometimes he still gets the temptation, but when that happens and his stomach starts churning, he usually tries to ignore it until it gets too much and he just can't anymore. 

That's when he has no choice but to make the scary decision of going into the kitchen behind aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon's back and going into their fridge and start sneaking pieces of raw meat every now and again. 

He only does little bits at a time, despite the fact that his tummy still hurts, because he doesn't want them growing suspicious, wondering where all their food is going, and then he'll have to explain. _"Oh yeah, I take my meat on the raw side now, thank you."_ No way was that happening. 

Harry sighs and stays on the step, thoughts running too wild. He has too many questions and nobody to answer them. Maybe aunt Petunia might know what's going on with him. She seems to know loads more than she's ever let on. Then again, would she ever want to have a proper discussion with him that didn't involve plotting each other's murder? No, he'll pass. 

He's beginning to think maybe he's caught rabies or something. But the nurse said she gave him a shot for that, right? What if she missed one? He was unconscious, how could he be sure? No, he trusted her, she was nice and stopped him from dying. But what if he's still ill? Will his relatives care? Probably not.

He jumps when he hears Dudley run into the kitchen full speed, right past him, clearly heading straight towards his food. He's sitting on the steps nearest to the front door yet he can still hear his slob of a cousin munching away from the other side of the house and it makes him cringe.

That's the fourth thing, his hearing has significantly improved also. He hears everything, even the smallest of things. He already had good enough hearing before, years of being on the lookout to try and hide from Dudley when he'd jump around corners and scare him or push him. 

But he can hear when aunt Petunia would whisper over the phone at the other side of the house to her lady friends about all sorts of gossip he didn't care for, he'd hear the neighbourhood cats meowing in the gardens when they were outside, he'd hear babies cry from indoors if he focused hard enough, he could hear children riding their bikes all the way down the end of the street and he could hear the all familiar rattle of uncle Vernon's car as it headed in the direction of their house. 

He was beginning to get sensory overload, he began clutching at his hair and biting his lip. _'Just eat quieter, will you?'_ He cursed Dudley inside his head and started kicking at the floor in temper.

He heard footsteps get closer and looked up to see aunt Petunia glaring at him from the dining room doorway. "Just what do you think you're doing? Making all that noise, hmm?" She asked sternly with a raised eyebrow.

Harry scoffed and threw his arms up. "Me? I'm not the one causing all the noise, it's him." He pointed in the direction of Dudley who was paying them no mind. 

Aunt Petunia stared at him with shock and confusion for a moment before looking back towards Dudley. She then turned his glare back on him again. "He's doing nothing. He's just eating, you're the one kicking the floor like a child throwing a tantrum." 

"But why does he have to act like that, huh? Why does he have no manners at all, ever?" He stood up and crossed his arms. 

"I think you're the one with no manners here, young man." Aunt Petunia said strictly and pointed towards Dudley. "Go apologise to him right now."

Harry gaped at her. "For what?!" He yelled loudly. He heard a chair scrape back and realised Dudley heard the commotion and was coming to see the big show.

"For insulting him and acting like a stupid and insolent little brat." Aunt Petunia snapped harshly. 

"He didn't even hear me!" Harry snapped back, throwing his hands up in the air angrily.

Just then he saw a figure appear next to aunt Petunia. "Mummy, what's he saying?" Dudley asked softly. Ugh, suck up.

"You see? He did hear you. And now you've upset him. Well done!" Aunt Petunia said exasperated, running her hands through Dudley's hair. Harry scoffed at their display, pathetic. "Now, apologise to him."

"No." 

"No?" Aunt Petunia asked in disbelief. Dudley was also staring at him with shock for the second time that day. 

"No." Harry said flatly, crossing his arms against his chest and shaking his head. "I won't. Because he doesn't deserve it." Where was _this_ coming from? He's just so mad, he can't control what's he saying anymore. It's like there's a beast in him and when it gets angered, it likes to snap. "If anything, he deserves to get beaten to a pulp with that ridiculous stick him and his ugly friends use to chase me around with. Isn't that right, Dudley?" He glared at him.

Dudley turned bright red, whether from anger or embarrassment, Harry couldn't tell or even care less, and yelled at him. "Shut up, you ugly weirdo! Nobody cares about what you have to say." 

"Then why are you still standing here listening? Both of you, just turn around and walk away." He said sassily, pointing to the door behind them with a cocky grin on his lips. 

"Don't you dare tell me what to do in my own home." Aunt Petunia scolded at him whilst keeping a firm grip on Dudley's shoulders, most likely to stop him from jumping on him and causing an even bigger commotion. 

"Um, I think I just did." Harry said sarcastically with a raised eyebrow. 

Harry could tell that Aunt Petunia thought she was getting nowhere with him, judging by the look of shock and anger on her face. 

Eventually she just scoffed and turned Dudley around, steering him off in the direction they came from. 

"Go finish your food, pumpkin." She coo'd at him. "And just ignore him. He's not important." She said, turning a hatred filled glance at Harry before slamming the dining room door in his face, leaving him standing alone in the hallway. 

Well that was something. 

* * *

"You're staying at Mrs Figg's for the day." Aunt Petunia said matter of factly, just as he got up out of bed and wandered into the kitchen to pour a glass of water.

"Wha-" He mumbled, half asleep. 

She sighed irritably and repeated sharply. "Mrs Figg is looking after you today. This is not up for discussion." 

She's been cranky with him for a few days now ever since he told her and her precious son off. Giving him the cold shoulder and dirty looks. All he does is just glare back, the ongoing feud. 

He drinks the water slowly and looks her over. 

"Why? She smells like cabbages and cats. That's never a good combination." He cringed at the thought of going in there and getting a whiff of it, oh god no.

"Dudley, Vernon and I are going out for the day, as a family. We're spending quality time together." She said snootily in his direction and rolled her eyes. "And you're not welcome. You're an embarrassment in so many ways. You'll be kept out of trouble there, nothing can possibly go wrong." 

"You've jinxed it now." He mumbled under his breath but she seemed to hear him as she went rigid. 

"Don't you _dare_ think of getting up into any funny business! She's the only neighbour who somehow manages to tolerate your nonsense, we won't have her sending you back to us because you decided it would be funny to set fire to her kitchen or flood her bathroom." She growls.

"But aunt Petunia, isn't that what those rooms are for?" He asked cheekily. 

"You're not funny. Or smart." She scolded him and left the room. "Get ready, you're going soon." 

Harry stuck his tongue out at her childishly and made himself some toast quickly, before scoffing it down with his water. His stomach cramped a little bit but he could ignore that until later. Right now he had to figure out what he was going to do about the crazy cat lady. 

He likes cats, they're fluffy and playful, but she just has so many, at least four! And they jump all over the furniture and leave hair everywhere. Oh well, he'll deal with it.

Once he's done with his food, he goes to get himself ready which takes about five minutes. Aunt Petunia is waiting for him by the front door tapping her foot against the floor impatiently. Uncle Vernon and Dudley are just beginning to emerge from downstairs, their giant weights thumping throughout the house and that's when Harry decides it's time to go.

He leaves the threshold of the front door and walks in the direction of Mrs Figg's house on the other end of the street, aunt Petunia walking behind him to make sure he doesn't run off. 

When he gets there, aunt Petunia knocks three times sharply on the door and waits for Mrs Figg to answer with a fake yet polite smile on her face. Phoney.

When she answers, aunt Petunia practically shoves him into the house right past Mrs Figg who, nicely enough, attempts to catch him with a small smile. 

"Harry, here so early?" Mrs Figg asks cheerfully.

"We didn't want to keep him waiting. He was just so excited to see his favourite neighbour, right Harry?" Aunt Petunia said with sharp eyes focused on him.

Harry gulped and nodded at Mrs Figg, giving a small smile. "Sure, yeah, happy to be here." 

"See!" Aunt Petunia said relieved and stepped back. "Well, if that's everything then I must be going. See you later, Harry." Her voice suddenly turned slightly harsher. "And remember what we talked about." 

Harry nodded, he got the message. "No trouble." He saw her nod back and walk off, feeling instantly lighter. Mrs Figg then shut the door and led him inside towards the living room where he sat down on a comfy couch. 

She handed him a plate full of biscuits and he thanked her, sitting them down on the table and scanning the room. The tv was on, playing some random channel, the room was relatively tidy, just some magazines strewn about as well as knitting equipment and cardigans on the backs of chairs. 

And of course the bloody cats sitting under the tables, sitting on chairs or on the staircase. 

He tried to breath through his mouth whilst she started up a conversation with him. He knew she'd fall asleep soon, she tended to get sleepy once she gets deep into conversation and that's why he usually carries one out, so he doesn't just have to sit around and listen to her talk about her cats all day. 

"So, what happened there? It looks horrid." She said bluntly as she sat in the chair across from him, pointing to her own face. He touched his face and felt the scars, frowning.

She can be quite rude sometimes.

"I got attacked by a big dog, it bit me and scratched me." He said seriously. As much as Dudley liked to joke about it and he just brushed it off as if it were no big deal, he actually didn't like to hear them at all. Of course he didn't. 

He hated his reflection and nobody was going to look at him as an attractive person when he's older. He looks kind of scary, sometimes. If he gets really annoyed and Dudley won't leave him alone, he'll see his reflection in the mirror and it's as if something else is looking back at him. Plus, his scars also tend to get more sensitive at night. He doesn't like thinking about them or touching them when it's dark because the skin somehow looks more purple and tender. Maybe it's just a trick of the light. 

Mrs Figg just raises an eyebrow at him. "What did you do to cause that?" 

"Me? I didn't do anything to cause that. It just attacked me!" He yelled defensively. Why was it always his fault?

Mrs Figg just yawned and nodded. "Okay then. Eat your biscuits before they get cold." She then leaned back in her chair before closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep.

"Cold?" He picked up the plate on the table which had the biscuits on them and examined them. He snorted to himself. They were from a packet in the bloody cupboard, they were supposed to be cold. The woman has gone mad. 

He put the plate back down and stood up, not wanting to just sit here and listen to a woman snore for the next few hours. He watched her for any sign of movement and when he realised she was passed out cold, he decided it was okay to snoop around. It's not the first time, anyway. You can't blame a kid for getting bored.

The inhaled and realised that the place truly _stank._ It reeked of old vegetables, cat hair, tuna and all kinds of cat food. He spotted a hairbrush lying on a table at the other end of the room and noticed large amounts of silvery hair stuck in it. He shook his head to clear away the image. 

He continued wandering about minding his own business when one of the silly cats appeared in front of him. He's usually quite friendly with them. He doesn't love them exactly, but if they approach him they'll always be down for a quick pat from him. He goes to lean down and stroke his finger down it's back like he usually does, expecting it to lean up into his touch and do its usual _purr_ but instead the cat rears back away from him as if it's been struck by lightning and lets out a nasty _hiss!_

What the-

What's wrong with this cat? It's never done that before. It's usually so friendly to him. Maybe he should tell Mrs Figg her cat is broken and needs to be taken to the vet or replaced. She'd be so sad, though. 

He eyes the thing warily as it's still on the defensive stance, clearly ready to strike at him if he gets too close. He doesn't want those kitty claws digging into his face. He already had dog claws, enough is enough already!

He walks away from it at a quick pace, heart calming down when he's around a corner and smiles when he sees another cat lounging around, tail swinging back and forth happily, licking at its fluffy paws. 

He goes up to it and starts murmuring. "Who's a cute kitty? You are." He coos at the thing, reaching out to pet it. But the same thing happened again. The cat _shrieked_ and backed up away from him, hissing and getting defensive like mad. "Bad kitty." Harry mutters irritated and storms off. 

Clearly he's not wanted today, be either human or animal. 

He decides to stay upstairs away from everything, in a spare bedroom where he knows he's allowed to be as Mrs Figg told him if he's ever tired, he can nap here. 

He lays back on the bed and stares up at the ceiling with boredom. The only good thing about today is that he's away from the Dursley's and he's actually able to nap in a real bed that doesn't smell like mould. He gave it some extra sniffs, just to be careful. He's pretty sure he can rely on his nose now, it's like an instinct. 

Maybe he should go talk to the snake again. After all, he did want him to come visit? He could tell him all the things he's learned recently about being a wizard, he wanted him to know more about his world, right? 

Maybe he could help him figure out what's going on with him recently, help him figure out why he's been feeling quite funky and all over the place lately. Snakes do seem pretty clever.

He eventually makes up his mind. He gets up and peeks out the window just to make sure the Dursley's car isn't parked in the driveway. Seeing that they're definitely gone, he heads downstairs quietly, sneaking past the silly cats who are still anxious around him and looks over at Mrs Figg who is still sound asleep. He shrugs and quietly leaves the house, taking off in the direction he remembers the woods being in which he dropped his serpent friend off.

The walk takes about twenty minutes but by the time he gets there, he's both sweaty and excited. He starts at the trail where he originally dropped his friend off and searches about, seeing nothing. He must have moved, he did say he was going to find a new home. He begins wandering through the woods, looking up at the trees above his head and being careful not to step on the flowers. 

After seeing nothing, he tries calling out. **"Hello! It's me, Harry! You said you wanted me to come back."** He calls out to nobody in particular, but still hoping somebody would hear. **"Hello?"**

Suddenly he hears a rustling of leaves behind him. He takes in a deep breath and a small step back, ready to run as he remembers what happened last time. But instead of a giant dog jumping out, it's just the small snake from before, slithering out slowly and eyeing him up. 

**"You're my speaker?"** He asks hesitantly. He almost looks nervous.

**"Well, of course it's me. Who else?"** Harry laughed and crouched down on the ground to get closer. 

The snake slithered back for a second, making Harry's eyes widen as he thought he scared him somehow, but the snake seemed to gain control of himself. He slithered closer again and lifted up his head, sticking his tongue out and scenting him for a minute. Harry said nothing, just let him do his snakey thing.

**"You smell different, youngling. I don't understand."** The snake shook his head and hissed irritably. **"Sorry if I made you confused, I just had to make sure you really were my speaker. You looked and sounded like him, but smelled nothing like him."**

**"Oh, well that's okay. Maybe I should take another shower?"** Harry asked him, hoping that would make him feel better.

The snake shook his head frantically. **"No, it is not what's on your skin. It's what's in your blood."** The snake eyed him up and down again. **"Did something happen? You have markings on your face."**

Harry winced. He kept forgetting about that. Every time someone brought it up he got a little bit of a sting. Purely trauma, of course. He's trying to work through it. 

**"I, well. I got attacked by a large dog. I'm okay though! It scratched me up and bit me. I went to hospital and had to get cleaned up. They gave me some medicine though, so I'll be fine."** He reassured the snake who sat up straighter at the mention of dogs. 

The snake immediately got in close to his face and started sniffing furiously, his little tongue poking out his mouth. He then went down the his abdomen and slithered under his shirt which made Harry squirm and had to hold in a giggle. Suddenly the snake reared right back and flopped onto the grass again, hissing furiously and shaking his head. 

**"Dog, it's definitely dog."** He was staring at Harry's eyes so intently, he thought he was reading his mind. **"There's something not quite right."**

**"What do you mean?"** Harry asked worriedly. All trace of funniness gone now.

**"I've smelled dogs before. Lots of different kinds. I traced the smell of that bite and it definitely came from a dog. Or at least something that resembles a dog."** The snake was sighing to himself and trying to put pieces together. **"The strange thing is... You smell like this dog."**

Harry's mouth dropped open and he stared at the snake in shock. 

**"How can I smell like a dog? I'm a boy."** He said confused.

**"I wonder that, too."** The snake tipped his head to the side. **”It might be nothing. Maybe you just need to get some more of the medicine that you got at the hospital."**

**"You think I might have rabies?!"** Harry asked terrified.

**"I don't think so. You'd be foaming at the mouth right now."** Harry deflated at that, thankfully. **"But maybe you just have some infection."**

**"Like a virus or a bug?"** He asked sceptically. The snake seemed just as uncertain but nodded anyway. Harry sighed and swore to talk to aunt Petunia about it. He didn't want to die, if he has to get injections he will. 

**"Alright then, thank you.”** He said sincerely and stroked his friend's scales, who slithered closer to him. **"That must be why those cats didn't want to go anywhere near me..."**

**"Yes, I imagine if you reek anything like you do now, no animal will ever want to go near you. Especially if it's your natural enemy, a cat to a dog."** His serpent friend then winked at him. **"However, you're lucky that I'm better than all the other animals and therefore I'm able to talk to you just fine."**

Harry just laughed and nodded. **"Yes, I suppose so. Also the fact that I can literally talk to you."**

**"That, too."**

Harry enjoyed spending time with his serpent friend. He wishes he could come back and spend more time with him but he can't get out of the house all that much anymore. 

He would sneak out but look at what happened last time. Just give him a mirror and he'll instantly remember why that's a bad idea. 

Maybe he could try and get on the Dursley's good side, prove to them he can be trusted and therefore have some freedom. Hah, he'd like to see that work. 

After a while of talking he realises he has to get back to Mrs Figg's house before she wakes up. She might not even remember he was there, she was daft and batty, but his aunt Petunia would for sure be unhappy.

He says goodbye to the snake and starts heading back in the direction he came from, through the woods and out onto the street path. 

It's a warm day and the sun is hot on his skin, he just wants to wear a short sleeved shirt but he decided against it because you could see the shapes of the scars on his collarbones and shoulders. Hence, the giant shirt pulled up to his neck to cover up. It's bad enough people have to see his face, he doesn't want them mocking is body too. 

His teenage years are going to be tough, he can tell. Nobody is going to have a crush on him.

He eventually reaches Mrs Figg's house and sneaks in through the front door again, making sure to be as quiet as possible. She's still asleep, does she stay up all night? 

The cats hiss at him again as he walks into the house and he just ignores them. He understands they're not just being temperamental, there's an instinctual reason. 

_'I guess I don't have to tell Mrs Figg to throw her cats away after all.'_ He thinks to himself. 

He walks to the bathroom to clean up, he's sweaty from the walk and doesn't want any of it on her furniture. That would be gross, he has some form of manners. Once he's done washing his hands he checks himself in the mirror.

He looks rubbish, his skin is pale and sickly looking, his scars stand out bright red and look painful and his eyes are bloodshot. His lips are dry and he has bags under his eyes. He looks like he's dying. Like a dog that needs to be put down. The irony in that statement.

He heads back downstairs with a heavy sigh and his footsteps dragging behind him, he's so tired.

He sits down on the couch and grabs the tv remote, switching to a news channel and listening in whilst eating his biscuits from before.

He just lays back and relaxes, enjoying his peace and quiet for once, still trying to ignore the smell, of course. He eventually flicks through the tv channels until he comes across some random music station and just leans his head back with his eyes closed. 

He feels himself getting a bit sleepy and lets his head tip to the side ever so slightly. He doesn't know how long he's dozed off for, only that he's suddenly jolting upright when he feels something jump next to him and realises with a scoff, that it's just one of the bloody cats trying to jump all over the furniture as usual. 

It eyes him warily as he stares at it from where it jumped up on the opposite end of the couch. He was here first, he's not moving. 

The cat just hisses and jumps back down, taking off in another direction. Good riddance.

He sighs and rubs his still tired eyes, looking around the room. Mrs Figg is still asleep, the tv is still on and he reads the time on the clock. A few hours have passed, aunt Petunia should be back soon. 

Suddenly his stomach lets out a big growl, he groans and clutches tight at it, doubling over. Wow, that was _painful._ He ate his biscuits though, shouldn't that have been enough? He looks at his empty plate and over to Mrs Figg. She's always said to help himself to stuff in the kitchen, he's never really bothered unless it was for something like water, but he's pretty hungry. He doesn't want to wake her, though. He'd feel awkward.

He didn't eat much for breakfast this morning though. He felt like he needed something in particular and it's been festering away in the back of his head all day. Just the usual hunger pains, but he decided to ignore them. Should he have? Was he reckless? What's happening?

He creeps from the living room into the kitchen, still holding his sore tummy which is beginning to get a churning feeling to it as he takes in all the different scents. He looks around for anything he can get his hands on even if it's small.

He sees bread, maybe he could make some toast? _Churn._ Nope, that's a bad idea. He feels like he's going to throw up. 

Some more biscuits on the counter? _Churn._ Oh god, the nausea.

When he looks through the fridge and sees a bowl with some pasta and chicken in it, his tummy settles down a little bit. He picks up the bowl and gets a fork out, sniffing through the food. He doesn't even bother with the pasta, it doesn't appeal to him at all. He's more focused on the chicken. 

He starts eating big pieces of cooked chicken with some mild satisfaction. His stomach is still sore, though. Despite the fact that he's eating, it's like his stomach isn't getting what it needs or wants and he starts to feel sick again, shortly after.

_Churn._

He sets the container down on the counter angrily and closes his eyes, taking deep breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth. He takes in a particularly deep breath through his nose and his eyes pop open immediately. He starts sniffing around him to find out where that came from.

It's the same smell, the one he smelled at the hospital and the one he's been smelling at the Dursley's when the fridge is left open. It's the smell of the raw meat. He quickly digs his way through the fridge, shoving milk and juice and fruits and vegetables all out the way. None of that was important right now. What was important was finding that food. 

He finally finds the raw mince in the fridge, it's in a little plastic bowl with a lid on top. He rips the lid off and doesn't care where it lands. He inhales deeply and shudders, knowing that this is definitely the smell he was looking for, it's always this one.

Whenever he gets his stomach aches, it always feels like there's something inside of him screaming and it spreads from his stomach to his arms and legs and head, until he feels like he's going to rip someone apart with his bare hands. That's why he can't leave it too long, that's why he has to do what he feels he has to do, even if that is repulsively eat raw meat. 

He doesn't know why. Why this of all things? Why him? But he just has to. He knows it, feels it!

That's the only thing that settles the screaming inside of him, the overwhelming sensations that flow through his body where he feels like he's about to burst, like he's starving, like he can't breath, like he's not even there anymore. Like something is taking over.

He ignores any train of thought he has left and throws the fork to the ground, grabbing the food by his hand and picking it up, shoving it in his mouth, yet again, with no manners. Aunt Petunia or Mrs Figg better not walk in right now because he's having a moment here and he doesn't know if he'll literally jump on them or not. He _needs_ to do this, needs to eat this. 

The blood drips down his clothes and gets on his hands, it dribbles down his arms and on his chin, down his neck. You'd think he'd murdered someone, but he can't care less. The pain is lessening the more he eats and by the time he finishes and throws away the bowl, he's slumped on the floor whimpering. 

Not in pain, never in pain after this, but in pure euphoria. Like he's on drugs, he feels so free. It's a task to just sit still but he takes deep breaths to calm himself. 

After about a minute he gets up and heads upstairs to the bathroom to clean up. When he sees his reflection in the mirror, he's shocked. 

He no longer looks like rubbish. His skin is no longer pale and sick looking. In fact, he looks quite refreshed. His scars don't stand out painfully obvious, they're fading more on the pale side, as if trying to blend it. Progress! His lips have moisture in them, his eyes aren't bloodshot and the bags under his eyes are gone, he looks like he's actually gotten sleep. In fact, he doesn't feel tired at all. He feels energetic and in a good mood.

That always happens.

_'If eating raw meat and risking getting a chicken disease is all it takes to look and feel amazing like a regular person, I'll gladly do it, no matter how dangerous or disgusting.'_ He told himself. It's not like it matters if he gets some weird disease anyway, he could get cured from it with medicine. Besides, isn't he already infected with some doggy disease? That's what's causing this anyway. He really should talk to aunt Petunia, if he's sure she'll listen.

He takes one last look at himself in the mirror before heading back downstairs satisfied, heading to the kitchen to clean up the mess he made.

When he's finally done, he hears voices at the front door. It's aunt Petunia and she sounds as grumpy as ever. Also, Mrs Figg is standing with her by the door. When did she wake up? Oh, who cares, probably one of her silly cats.

Harry heads to the door with a polite goodbye to Mrs Figg and walks back home with aunt Petunia, who obviously doesn't bother with niceties.

"You behaved, I assume? There didn't seem to be any screaming at the door." She eyed him warily.

Harry smiled up at her innocently. "No, aunt Petunia. I've been on my best behaviour. Promise." He said with a grin. 

She raised an eyebrow at him then scoffed. "Right, sure you have." She mumbled.

_'I sure have, aunt Petunia.'_ He thought smugly to himself. _'I'm no trouble maker.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and leave kudos if you like what you read <3


	4. Wolves At The Zoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sickness, a birthday and lots of talking to animals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can now tell, we are getting more canon based! Meaning the philosophers stone book will be happening soon once this prequel is over! 
> 
> I’ve taken the real dialogue from the books/movies and changed it up a bit for originality, but otherwise it’s basically still the same, in case anyone is wondering what’s going on :)
> 
> Also this is now officially my longest chapter, nearly 7,000 words I believe *gasp*
> 
> I plan on updating every day-2 days, depending on how long a chap is :D

He's been locked away in the bathroom and leaning over the toilet puking for about twenty minutes now, on and off. His back is sweaty, his whole body _hurts_ and his head is pounding. His stomach hurts so bad and it keeps growling for something it wants but doesn't have. He keeps puking up stomach acid because there's nothing else in there. No food or water because he hasn't had it. He needs it, needs something, anything. 

How did he get himself into this mess? Here's exactly how.

About a week ago when he got back from Mrs Figg's house, he was in such a high and energetic mood as he usually is after his semi frequent meat feasts, that when he walked back inside the Dursley's house with a giant grin on his face, he payed no mind to cousin Dudley who banged right into him when he was alone.

"Watch where you're going, cousin!" He yelled and shoved into his small shoulders.

Harry stumbled backwards and hit the wall, letting out a huff of breath. Ouch. 

He tried to ignore him at first and walk on, just rolling his eyes at his childishness but then he felt a punch on his arm. He let out a hiss and turned around.

"Ow, why did you do that?" Harry asked, rubbing at his arm where it now ached. 

"You were in the way." Dudley glowered at him as if it were obvious. "And you look like you're all happy, I don't like it." He shoved him harder again as he tried to get past him to head upstairs. Harry glared at him and slapped his hands away. Of course his good mood couldn't last. He felt the beginning sparks of anger rise up in him, like something was groaning inside of his veins. He narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists.

"Stop it!" He snapped. 

"Why don't you make me?" Dudley grinned and shoved him harder, so he nearly tripped over his own feet. He was backed up against the wall and felt threatened, he didn't like it. He felt like one of those animals that were in a cage and kept in a corner and soon enough was going to lash out. 

He felt himself shake, he was still full of adrenaline from earlier, he still felt like he could do anything, but no longer was he happy about it. 

He no longer wanted to run around free and let his troubles fly away. He now wanted to rip his cousins's head right off his body. He felt his fingers twitch and his nails dig into his palms so suddenly and sharply that he felt the warmth of blood trickle down the palms of his hands and onto the floor. He payed it no mind. 

When he saw Dudley glance quickly at the blood and look up at him in disgust, he couldn't help but let out a _growl_ that came deep from within his chest and had Dudley staggering backwards and slamming into the opposite wall and slumping down onto the floor like a little lump. 

"Mummy! Daddy!" Dudley suddenly cried from his position on the floor and looking up at Harry terrified. 

Harry took deep breaths to calm himself down just as aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon come barging into the hallway to see the commotion. They see Harry standing above a whimpering Dudley with angry eyes and immediately know that somehow this is his fault, as usual. 

"You, boy!" Uncle Vernon bellows at him as aunt Petunia goes to pick up Dudley and coddle him like a baby, shushing him. "What is happening? What did you do?" 

"He started it!" Harry yelled, frustrated. He shot a nasty glare at Dudley who backed away from him. "He was pushing me and punching me."

"Mummy, daddy. He was doing weird things..." Dudley mumbled.

Aunt Petunia stroked his hair and looked confused. "What weird things, pumpkin?" 

Uncle Vernon looked like he was ready to kill him for upsetting his son. 

"He was... growling!" Dudley gulped and shook more. "Like an animal." 

Harry scoffed at him and crossed his arms. "You're the animal here, Dudley. Just take a look in the mirror." He snapped.

"Look at yourself, you ugly freak!" He yelled back. "At least I don't have scratches all over my face." 

"That can change right now." Harry growled angrily and began to step forward. 

"Enough!" Aunt Petunia shrieked. They both fell silent and she glared at him. "Why do you do this? Why can't you just act like a normal person?" 

"Maybe because I'm not." Harry said with a raised eyebrow. He heard Dudley snort and continued on. "Maybe you should send me away." When he saw uncle Vernon's eyes light up, he still went on with a grin. "Maybe I should go away to a certain boarding school."

"That sounds like a fantastic idea, I know just the place! They'll whip the naughtiness right out of you." Uncle Vernon held up a finger at him and smiled evilly. 

Only aunt Petunia seemed to get the underlying meaning, though. "Stop what you're doing, right now." She warned him.

"I doubt the school I want to go to will tolerate whipping, wouldn't you agree, aunt Petunia? After all, my mum didn't talk about any of that, did she?" He asked innocently.

"I said stop." She hissed.

"Hogwarts teaches you magic, not cruelty, I believe." He said matter of factly. He smirked when he saw her face pinch and uncle Vernon's go bright red with anger. 

"You will not be going to that freak show magic school, do you hear me, boy?" Uncle Vernon yelled. "I won't have you waving around pointy sticks and wearing stupid costumes, you already embarrass us enough!" 

Harry glared at him with hatred. He was hardly the embarrassment here. Does he ever look in the mirror? Has he seen his moustache? It's like a dead squirrel on his upper lip. Horrid.

"Quite right." Aunt Petunia said firmly. "Now why don't you go clean up the mess you've made." She cringed.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Mess?" 

She glowered at him and looked to the floor, beneath him were small drops of blood from where his hands had been bleeding and he let it drip. He lifted up his hands to look at the cuts, seeing they weren't bleeding as much anymore. 

Instead of going to wash up and get some tissues, he decided to wind them up even more. He got the sick and interesting idea to lick the blood away from his hands with just his tongue and took satisfaction in seeing their horrified faces. He heard Dudley gag and run away. 

"Stop that this instant!" Uncle Vernon's loud voice bellowed throughout the house. 

Harry snorted and continued examining his hands, making sure to get each little drop of blood off so it wouldn't cause a mess. Once he was sure he was cleaned up, he smirked at them and raised an eyebrow, clasping his hands together in front of him casually.

They both looked at him like he had Ebola and took a step back. 

"There's something _wrong_ with you." Aunt Petunia hissed at him. "Don't you sense it, Vernon?" She asked him worriedly.

He eyed Harry with uneasiness and nodded his head. 

"I know just what to do with him." He suddenly grabbed Harry by his hair and yanked his head back, making him yell out in pain. "With me." He growled and dragged him to the cupboard where he shoved him inside harshly. He slammed the little door shut and locked it from the outside, trapping him indoors. "Don't come out, ever!" He hissed and walked away.

Harry cringed when he sat down on the lumpy mattress again, pinching his nose tightly to keep away the bad odour. Soon enough, he'd be too big for this place and thankfully he'd have to get a room, which meant Dudley would have to suck it up and give up one of his spare rooms for him. He couldn't be twelve or thirteen and still living in here, unless he stops growing. 

He switches on the little light above his head and looks around him. He sees all the dust particles in the air and narrows his eyes. How has he not died in his sleep from this over the years?

He stews in his own thoughts all day, grumpily reading books he has and thinking about magic. He's going to be eleven next month and aunt Petunia said magical people go to this Wizarding school at that age. He doesn't want to stay here with these people who hate it when he could be in a world that accepts it openly. It's his birthright, isn't it? 

By the time dinner comes round, he yells for aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon to come let him out. He says he'll cook for them to make it up to them, if that's what it takes to get out of this hellhole then he'll do it. And by that, he doesn't just mean the cupboard.

When nobody comes, he yells louder. After a minute of listening and yet again, hearing nobody coming, he starts kicking hard on the door to get their attention. He's frustrated and feels ignored and betrayed, he's lonely and bored and cramped up. He wants freedom. He kicks harder and harder at the door, letting out all his frustrations. 

Eventually he hears footsteps coming and hears aunt Petunia's voice outside the cupboard. "Stop that at once! You'll break down the door!" She yells at him angrily. When he ignores her and continues his kicking, she sighs frustrated and unlocks the door, peeking her head inside. She scoffs at him when she sees his glare. "What are you doing?"

"I want out." He says bluntly. "Now."

"Not with that attitude." She snaps and goes to shut the door but Harry sticks his foot out between the door and the frame, stopping it from closing. He holds back a wince, it doesn't hurt that bad. 

"Let me out!" He yells frustratedly. "I'm not some animal." 

"Then why do you behave like one, hmm?" She raises an eyebrow at him. "If you want to act like an animal then you'll get treated like one. Locked away in a cage and fed scraps." She snapped. "I swear, you're an inbred or something." She mutters to herself. 

"Why lock me up and treat me like dirt?" He asks dryly. No point in trying to play nice. 

"You give me the creeps." She says warily. "You're just... odd." She shakes her head as if to clear it of things. "Then again, all you lot are." She stands back, kicks his foot away from the frame and slams the door shut again before he has a chance to stop it. 

He hears her walk off and lets out a scream, punching at the door with his fists, but this time she doesn't turn back. Nobody does, he's all alone.

For the next week, he's been left locked up in his cupboard, confined there for nearly all hours of the day, except for the times when he gets to use the bathroom or go back to his stupid housemaid duties. He's losing his energy, he's been feeling weak and tired. He's been feeling snappy and angry. He even tripped Dudley up on the stairs and caused him to fall because he looked at him the wrong way. 

He got in so much trouble for that, no food privileges at all, that day. Yes, food is a privilege in this household. It's absurd. 

He just can't control himself these days, these people are pushing him over the line. It's like his skin is getting hotter as each day goes by, his skin prickles and his eyes burn. His head pounds and his muscles and joints ache. It gets worse at night, too. As soon as the sun begins to set, the temper rises and the pain increases. He's probably just sleep deprived and needs a lot of rest. 

He feels himself begin to crack, like he's going to do something he'll probably regret. He feels scared, at times. 

His stomach churns and as each day goes by it gets worse and worse. He hasn't been able to eat much because the most his relatives give him is a pathetic slice of bread under the cupboard door or when he manages to steal something when he's cooking for them. 

He doesn't know how he's actually functioning at all, how he's even still breathing. His chest constricts and he doubles over so much, nobody ever cares to help him. They always think he's seeking attention. Well yes, medical attention would be nice, thank you.

He's been on his feet all morning and didn't have breakfast, only drank water to keep himself somewhat hydrated. He got a dizzy spell and fell over in the living room when he went to pick up a jacket. He hissed as he hurt his hands and knees as he caught himself before he smacked his head open. 

His stomach started churning away again and he gulped, bringing a hand up to his mouth. He threw everything he was holding, the jacket and cleaning supplies, into his cupboard to deal with later and ran full speed upstairs into the bathroom, locked the door and started violently throwing up. 

That's how he found himself here, shirt sticking to his skin, out of breath, flushed and in pain. He gags and spits into the toilet, hoping it'll stop sometime soon.

After a while, he eventually calms down and takes deep breaths. He leans back against he walls and lets the hot tears fall down his face. He just wants it all to end. It's too much, no more.

_’Suck it up, there's worse things in the world.'_ He tells himself, bravely. He stands up and washes himself off, making sure he looks somewhat presentable before he leaves. He doesn't want to appear weak. Just as he's about to reach for the door, he clutches his stomach again. 

_Churn._

Whoa, that was a big one. He bites his lip hard and struggles to think of what to do. 

It's very loud and aggressive, he's going to have to sneak something from the kitchen before he chews his own arm off. He cringes at the thought.

When he heads downstairs he sees aunt Petunia and Dudley sitting together in the dining room, him munching on some chocolate bars and getting crumbs everywhere. Immediately, the smell of chocolate hitting his nose makes him gag and he nearly throws up anything left in his system. 

It's horrible, when did he start hating the smell of chocolate? He's a kid, they love sweets, he always liked the cookies Mrs Figg would sometimes give him. But he can't stomach the scent of this, it's gross. It's as if it'll make him physically ill if he touches the stuff. He cringes at the sight of Dudley scoffing it down. 

"You, make him some lunch. You've been dawdling and daydreaming too much." Aunt Petunia's sharp voice breaks through his train of thought. 

He nods and sighs, heading to the kitchen to cook his precious cousin some food he knows he'll like, which is basically anything edible, ever. He gets out the pan and goes to the fridge, prepared to fry him his usual sausages, when his stomach growls again. 

He rubs behind his eyes and tries to ignore it but when he pulls out the meat, he clutches at his stomach and groans. His hands are shaking badly and he knows he won't be able to do this, he can't continue on like this without breaking. 

He looks behind him and sees aunt Petunia playing with Dudley's hair, talking about all the birthday presents she and his dad are going to get him in a few days. He's sitting there in his seat with his legs swinging back and forth excitedly, waiting to be spoiled rotten.

Harry scoffs at them. He's about to dump the sausages onto the pan and start frying them but something inside of him is telling him 'no.'

A dark whisper in the back of his mind telling him _'don't do that, don't give it to him, he doesn't need it, you do. Take it, it's yours. Do it, do it now! It'll make you feel better.'_

He gulps and inhales deeply, shudders and caves in. _‘Okay.'_

He picks up the food with his bare hands and forgets all about aunt Petunia and Dudley, only focusing on one thing now, to eat. He hears a distant gasp and shriek, it sounds like a woman's and there's a childlike scream somewhere, too. 

But right now, he can hardly care. He closes his eyes and sinks down to the floor on his knees, eating the raw meat happily, enjoying the way the uneasy feeling and pains in his body have instantly disappeared. He's covered in blood but he just licks at whatever is left on his fingers, like he usually does, and wipes himself off. He leans back against a counter and blinks his eyes open, a happy smile on his face. 

He looks up and sees aunt Petunia and Dudley both stood on the furthest end of the room away from him, cuddled around each other, looking horrified. Harry gulps and slowly starts to stand up.

"Are you okay?" He asks them both, who just continue to gape at him. "You look a little funky."

"Us?!" Aunt Petunia's shriek goes all the way through the household and hurts Harry's ears. "You were the one who just ate raw meat right out of a packet! You're supposed to cook that!" She yelled furiously. "God knows what diseases you'll end up with now." She mutters to herself, shaking her head. 

"It's no big deal, I feel fine." He mumbled, rolling his eyes, acting as if it were no big deal.

"Well, you didn't seem fine!" She snapped. 

Harry eyed her. "What do you mean?" 

Dudley looked really anxious whilst aunt Petunia looked frustrated. 

"I tried calling your name, we both did, for minutes!" She yelled loudly, throwing her hands up. "You were too busy munching on that disgusting stuff to any pay attention." She spat at him. 

Dudley cleared his throat and spoke up. "Then you started, uh... well." He looked up at his mum with anxiety in his eyes and then looked back to Harry. "You were sort of growling." 

Harry's eyes went wide at that. "I was?" 

Dudley nodded his head. "Not like before, when you growled at me in the hallway. That one was scary." He gulped. "This one was way more calm, you started doing it once you'd, eh... eaten." He looked away from him then. "It was like you were purring or something. It was weird."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed for a moment. He doesn't even remember this, he's not aware of this, is this what other people see? All he knows is that he feels great and full of energy again. He shrugs it off and decides to forget about it. He's made it this far and hasn't died yet, he's fine. 

"Where do you think you're going?" Aunt Petunia yelled at him as he walked out the kitchen. 

"To get cleaned up." He gestured to his messy and bloody self.

She huffs and turns back to Dudley who refuses to look at him. He goes to get changed and wipes himself off, throwing his dirty clothes away in the laundry cupboard. When he comes back into the kitchen, he finally has the energy to cook food for Dudley. He can't make him any sausages because he ate them, he smirks to himself, so he decides on a ham sandwich instead. Besides, it's must quicker. 

He goes to finish the housework he'd not yet completed before aunt Petunia has a fit, polishing the tables and spraying air freshener to make the place smell nice. The fumes make his nose itch. 

When Dudley is done, he washes his plate and puts it away, deciding to go sit on a sofa in the living room. He pays no mind to aunt Petunia's glare, he's not usually allowed to sit in here, usually confined to his cupboard, but aunt Petunia realises that his rebellion is getting out of hand recently and feels at her wits end. She doesn't want to wind him up and have him throw some kind of tantrum making things worse. Good, she's finally learning something.

He ignores her and focuses on his nails, picking at them. He's been trying to keep them short recently. He looks at his hands and studies his palms. The cuts on them have rapidly healed, his wounds never do that so he's thankful for his body's miraculous decision to change. But they've left horrible scars on the palms of his hands in the shapes of his sharp nails from where he dug them in and made himself bleed.

He overhears aunt Petunia giggling with Dudley on the other couch, telling him that they've got a surprise planned for him for his birthday. He's smiling excitedly and bouncing up and down in his spot on the seat. 

"How many presents am I getting?" He asks happily.

"Oh, you'll see, pumpkin." She says with a sweet smile and strokes his hair. 

Harry shakes his head at their display. He gets spoiled like rotten milk and he gets treated like thrown out garbage. 

"Thank you, mummy!" Dudley says childlike and hugs her.

"Anything for my baby." She coos and stands up. "Now, I'm going to the shop, I need to get more food in because _somebody_ ate everything." She directed a glare towards Harry who just gapes at her. 

Surely she can't be serious. He ate one thing and she blames him for the entirety of the kitchen disappearing. Does she remember that she has an overly fat son and husband? He scoffs at her as she walks away and continues studying his nails in silence until the front door closes. Dudley is leaning back in his chair watching the cartoons on tv, some stupid sponge and pink starfish wearing clothes and laughing together. What in the world?

Dudley lets out a loud laugh and Harry rolls his eyes. How could he get amused by something as stupid as this? He's such an invalid. When he sees him clutching his stomach because the sponge crashed some stupid looking boat with a panicked looking fish next to him, he scoffs.

This gets Dudley's attention as he turns away from the tv and towards him with a questioning look. 

"What's wrong with you, cousin?" He asks.

"Me? What's wrong with you?" He asks with a raised eyebrow. Seeing Dudley's confused face, he clarifies. "You're laughing at a sponge." 

"It's Spongebob!" Dudley exclaimed as if it were obvious. 

"Excuse me?" Harry asked with a smirk. 

"Y'know, Spongebob Squarepants?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. "You do know who that is, right?"

"How would I, Dudley? I'm never allowed to watch tv." He said with a bored sigh.

"Yeah, well, that's because you're always getting into trouble and scaring people so you need to be kept locked away." He says turning away from him.

"Oh yeah, I'm sure a tiny one year old or five year old is really scary." He said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "I'm very sorry."

"Well, you should be!" Dudley yelled annoyed. "You're always doing your weird... magic stuff. You know my mum and dad don't like it! And now you eat weird stuff, too. It's gross." He cringes.

"It's not like I can help it, Dudley. It's just who I am." Harry says nonchalantly, shrugging. "Deal with it."

"But why do you have to do it, huh? Why can't you just eat cereal or a sandwich like a normal person?" He asks standing up.

"Well first of all, I never get the chance to because you lot _starve_ me!" He yells, standing up too. "And secondly, I don't know why I do it, okay. I just do, and I like it. And if I don't, I'll probably rip your face off." He snarls.

Dudley clenches his fists at him. "Shut up! Don't try and scare me, it won't work!" 

"It certainly worked the last time, didn't it? And the time before that." Harry says with a raised eyebrow and grin.

Dudley gulped but still held his ground. "That's because you were acting like a wild animal! If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were some kind of lion that deserves to go back out into the jungle." Harry rolled his eyes, uncultured swine. Lions don't live in the jungle. "Or a wolf that lives in the woods." 

Harry went to retort back when suddenly he felt a wave of _something_ run through him and he clenched his fists hard, unintentionally letting out a loud breath of air. 

Dudley took a step back from him with his hands raised and his face went pale. "L-like that!" He whimpered. 

Harry took deep breaths to calm down and concentrated. Then with a sudden realisation, he understood what Dudley was talking about. 

There was something about that breath, there was an underlying rumble that came from within his chest, like it was vibrating all the way up to his throat. And that's when it hit him, it was a _growl._

"But I- I don't." He stuttered.

"I told you!" Dudley yelled. "We all did. "You're just weird, there's something not right." For once, Harry agreed. "Go see a doctor or something." Dudley mumbled and ran away quickly up to his room to get away from him, leaving Harry alone in the living room with nothing but his own confused thoughts.

_'What was that?! It wasn't just my imagination, either. Dudley heard it, even aunt Petunia heard it. Something really is wrong with me, I can feel it. But I somehow doubt any doctor can help me, I'm beyond help. What do I do...'_

He sighed and flopped back down against the couch, staring ahead of him at the wall. He needs to start thinking properly. Analysing things. Lets see.

He got attacked by a large looking animal that apparently smelled like some sort of canine, ever since then he's had good vision, hearing and smell, he likes the taste of raw meat and it makes him feel better health wise, he's been prone to anger outbursts a lot more recently, his scars sting and burn at night, he's capable of growling when he gets angry, cats are scared of him, and his body aches when people talk about certain kinds of wild animals as if it's trying to fight something or say something. 

He feels like he's missing something, as if he knows the answer in the back of his head but somehow can't get it out. As if it's something important but he's just forgetting, it's bugging him badly. It's as if he doesn't want to know the answer because somehow he's scared. 

He realises he's shaking slightly and clenches his fists and takes deep breaths. Everything will be okay. It will. 

* * *

It's Dudley's birthday and Harry woke up to the sound of aunt Petunia smacking on his cupboard door yelling for him to get up. He groans and pulls his yucky pillow over his head to ignore her shrill voice but she’s persistent.

“Up! Get up now!” 

Harry sighs and pulls the pillow off his head, sits up and kicks at the door, letting her know he’s awake. “Alright, fine!”

He hears her storm off and scoffs.

He rubs his eyes and climbs out the cupboard, heading to the kitchen to see aunt Petunia putting a frying pan on the stove. She turns to him with a frown and points a finger at him. 

“Now you, cook breakfast and don’t burn the bacon! I want everything perfect for my Dudley’s birthday.” She snapped.

“Yes, aunt Petunia.” Harry sighed tiredly.

He started frying the bacon and looked over to where Dudley was sitting with his mum and dad, surrounded by heaps of presents. It looks like he got everything he’d asked for, such as that new computer and a new bike with a helmet. God know why he’d need a helmet, he doesn’t have a brain to protect.

Suddenly he hears a loud yell and turns to see. 

“How many are there?” He sees Dudley looking around the pile with narrowed eyes.

“Thirty six, I counted all of them myself.” Uncle Vernon said happily. Huh, Harry’s surprised he could count.

“Thirty six?! But last year I had thirty seven!” Dudley yelled childishly.

“But you haven’t seen the one from aunt Marge, darling.” Aunt Petunia’s comforting voice spoke up. “See, over there.” She said pointing to a large gift wrapped present.

“Fine, thirty seven.” He said grumpily. 

Aunt Petunia could tell he was in a bad mood though because she ran her hands through his hair. “Well, how about today we go out and buy you two more big presents.” 

Dudley’s face lit right up. “That means I’ll have...” he counted in his head. “Thirty nine!” 

“Exactly, sweetums.” Aunt Petunia smiled.

Uncle Vernon chuckled at his son’s happy face, he never could resist spoiling the little brat. 

As Dudley finished scoffing down his food and started unwrapping all his presents, the phone rang. Aunt Petunia answered it and her face looked sour by the time she hung up. 

“Bad news Vernon. Mrs Figg broke her leg and can’t take Harry.” She sighed.

Uncle Vernon looked furiously at Harry as if it were his fault. “Well, why don’t we phone Marge?”

“We can’t do that, she hates him.” Aunt Petunia said frustrated.

“Well, what about your friend? Yvonne, was it?” 

“On vacation in Majorca.” She said huffed. 

“Why don’t you just leave me here alone?” Harry butted in. He’d love to have some free time away from all of them. They can all go out and spend their precious free time with their special Dudley. He wants no part in it. Maybe he can even have a quick go on Dudley’s bike or computer.

“You’ll probably blow up the house when we’re gone!” Aunt Petunia snapped at him. “You’ve been too reckless lately, we don’t trust you.”

Harry rolled his eyes at her dramatics.

“What shall we do, Petunia?” Uncle Vernon asked worriedly. 

Aunt Petunia eyed him in distaste. “I suppose we’ll just have to take him.” 

Dudley’s mouth dropped open in shock. Harry’s eyes went wide, too. This couldn’t be happening. 

“Mummy, no!” Dudley wailed pathetically. “He’ll ruin everything just like usual!”

“It’s okay, pumpkin. I won’t let him do anything.” She looked over at him with a glare. “Right?” Harry gulped and nodded. “See?”

Suddenly the door bell rang. Uncle Vernon straightened himself up and went to answer it. Standing on the other side was Dudley’s stupid friend Piers. He was here to join Dudley for his birthday. How fun this was going to be.

Once Uncle Vernon explained the situation, Piers glared daggers at him the entire walk to the car. Just before he got inside, uncle Vernon’s large hand clamped down hard on his shoulder.

“Listen here, boy.” He said low and threatening. “I am warning you, any funny business at all and you’ll be locked in your cupboard with no meals for a week. Understand?” Harry winced at the pain in his shoulder and nodded. 

When he let go, he quickly ran inside the car and slammed the door shut behind him. 

Dudley was seated next to him and kept digging his elbow into his rib cage to wind him up. 

“Ow, stop it!” Harry hissed under his breath. 

“Make me.” Dudley laughed with Piers. Of course aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon just ignored it all. 

A little while later they both started complaining to each other about things. It was something they both did best, be miserable. He told her how he hated people at his work and she told him how she hated certain neighbours. 

“Look at those young hoodlums, roaring about like mad.” Uncle Vernon’s voice yelled as a motorbike drove past quickly. Harry suddenly had a flashback. 

“I remember having a dream one time of a flying motorbike.” He said casually to him. He knew it’d wind him up. He didn’t know if it was true or not, but he does remember that dream. 

Suddenly uncle Vernon’s loud voice boomed throughout the car, just like he expected. “Motorbikes don’t fly!” 

Harry held back a grin whilst Dudley and Piers both burst out laughing at him. They probably thought he was embarrassed as he wasn’t saying anything but actually he was enjoying this way too much. 

Soon, they arrived at the zoo in which Dudley would spend his birthday. He could smell all the different animals just from the entrance. It was overwhelming. 

It was a busy Saturday morning and Dudley and Piers both decided to pig out on ice cream. Harry cringed as they both got food all down themselves. They were in public, for heavens sake.

Harry kept his distance from both boys as he didn’t want to be the target of their games where they’d trip him up or bang into him. 

When they were walking through the animal habitats, he noticed something. All the animals seemed to be particularly awkward with him in different ways. 

They were in the monkey and gorilla exhibit when they all started jumping around mad, hiding up trees and eyeing him warily. Harry felt self conscious, was he really that ugly? 

They went into the bird exhibit and they all just tweeted at him, not really caring for him at all. That’s fine.

They went into the tiger exhibit and they immediately did what Mrs Figg’s pets did and took right off. Hah, scaredy cats.

Then they went into the lion exhibit which was sort of weird. They eyed him up and got on the defence, as if ready for a fight, as if ready to attack him or run from him, they didn't look too sure. 

Finally when he got to the wolf exhibit, it got strange. He was expecting them all to cower away like practically the rest but instead... they all peeked their heads up and immediately came close to the cages, sniffing and wagging their tails. Everyone else around jumped back but Harry hardly felt threatened, in fact he felt quite calm and content. It was just like having a little dog around the house. No harm at all. 

He slowly reached out his hand and pressed it up against the cage, letting one of the wolves scent his hand for a moment before it let out a pleasant howl. The rest of them responded and something in Harry’s mind, right at the back was telling him _‘they like you, they trust you, they won’t hurt you.’_

He had no idea how he knew that or where that feeling came from, it was just a subconscious thought that wouldn’t go away. They all looked so friendly, he wanted to go inside and sit with them, they actually looked like they wanted him to join. They were all looking at him intently with their tails swinging back and forth playfully, as if expecting him to come inside and play with them. 

He wishes he could, but that would be totally frowned upon. He got up close to the cage again and spoke to one of the wolves sadly. 

“I’m sorry, little guy. I wish I could join you but these people wouldn’t allow it. I enjoyed meeting you, though. You’re all so beautiful.” He smiled at them. Their ears all perked up and they let out another howl, making people around him jump again.

Something in the back of his mind was speaking again, telling him _‘we understand, we liked meeting you too.’_

Harry’s eyes went wide. Surely he’s imagining things. 

Just as he was about to bloody speak to the thing again, he felt himself get yanked back by his arm. 

“There you are, boy. What do you think you’re doing?” Aunt Petunia’s sharp voice asked. 

“I was just looking at the wolves.” He said innocently.

“Well, we’re about to leave. And we don’t want you getting up to god knows what kind of rubbish. Come on, let’s go.” She kept a firm grip on the back of his shirt and dragged him out of there, towards a reptile exhibit where his cousin, uncle and Piers were standing around. 

She let him go and walked off to stand next to uncle Vernon, leaving him alone. Suddenly Piers came up to him.

“What happened to your face?” He said poking him in the cheek and laughing. Harry took a step back and slapped his hand away. “You’re even more ugly than ever.” 

“I was in an accident.” Harry said casually.

“Your birth was an accident.” Dudley spoke up. Harry sucked in a deep breath and counted to ten inside his head. Piers and Dudley both laughed at him. “Maybe we should feed him to the snakes?” 

“Yeah, how about that one?” Piers said, pointing to a large one sleeping in a cage.

Dudley looked at it and banged his fists on the glass. “Make it move!” 

Uncle Vernon came over and banged on the glass, too. “Move!” He yelled at the snake frustratedly.

“He’s asleep!” Harry shouted at them all. They all glared at him before Dudley huffed.

“This is boring.” He mumbled and walked away, everyone following him. 

Harry sighed and stayed behind, leaning against the glass. He continued looking at the snake and shook his head. **“I’m sorry about that, he doesn’t have any manners.”**

Suddenly the snake lifted his head up and looked at him curiously. **“You speak?”**

**“Yes, I’m a speaker.”** Harry smiled. He was glad he understood what that meant now, it made it easier to communicate with his reptile friends. **“I take it you don’t like it in here.”** Harry said matter of factly.

The snake shook his head sadly and gestured towards a sign outside the glass. It read ‘Bred In Captivity’.

Harry sighed. **”That’s me, too. I didn’t know my parents either. I also grew up in a cage.”**

**“How did you escape?”** The snake asked curiously. 

Harry shook his head sadly. **“I haven’t. Not yet.”** He looked behind him towards the Dursley’s who were banging on some other tanks. The snake seemed to understand because he nodded. They are pretty intelligent animals, Harry’s already realised. 

**“You could run away.”** It spoke up, trying to be helpful.

Harry smiled at its advice. **”I would but I have nowhere to go. One day, though, I shall be free. I promise.”** Seeing the snake nod his head made him relax, he didn’t want to worry the poor thing. They’re also very empathetic. And he will make sure he gets out of here one day, if it’s the last thing he does. 

**“Good, youngling.”**

Suddenly, Harry had an idea. **“You’re from Burma, right?”** Seeing the snake’s nod, he smiled. **“Wouldn’t you like to go back?”** Seeing the snake nod more enthusiastically, he grinned. **“I might be able to get you out.”**

**“Oh?”** The snake seemed very intrigued now, slithering up close to the cage and listening intently. Harry grinned mischievously and was about to tell him his plan of attempting to sneak him out when suddenly he felt a shove from his side. 

He collapsed on the ground and winced at the pain in his side. 

“Mum, dad, come look at what this snake is doing!” Dudley yelled excitedly, Piers next to him banging on the glass.

Suddenly, in a fit of rage, Harry’s fists clenched and he narrowed his eyes, focusing hard on the glass until it disappeared completely. Piers managed to catch himself but Dudley fell face first into the tank where the snake had been laying. 

The snake then slithered out and up to Harry’s face, whispering a quick **“thanks, youngling”** before taking off, scaring everyone in his wake. Harry laughed at the commotion and even harder when the glass reappeared, trapping Dudley inside the tank. He was screaming bloody murder, trying to get out, aunt Petunia’s shrieks bouncing off the walls as she tried to yell for help to get him out. 

Uncle Vernon turned his glare on him and Harry gulped nervously. Uh-oh.

By the time they got Dudley out, Piers’ dad had picked him up and took him home, Dudley was wrapped up in shock blankets and aunt Petunia was cuddling him like a baby. Uncle Vernon was furious with him, as to be expected.

When they got home, aunt Petunia took Dudley upstairs to bed to get some rest whilst uncle Vernon grabbed Harry by the back of his hair and yelled in his face. 

“What on Earth happened?” His grip was unrelenting.

“I don’t know! One second the glass was there and then it was just gone. That’s all, I swear!” Harry said honestly.

“I don’t want to hear or see any more nonsense from you anymore. Don’t come out until told.” He shoved Harry inside the disgusting cupboard and slammed the door hard behind him. 

“But it’s not my fault! I can’t control my magic when I’m annoyed!” Harry yelled angrily. 

Suddenly uncle Vernon growled through the door. “There is _no such thing_ as magic!” He spat and stormed away leaving Harry alone in the cold and dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and leave kudos if you like what you read <3


	5. Harry Finds Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arguments, full moons, and a man with answers!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE’RE FINALLY THERE YAY! IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT SINCE THE BEGINNING :D
> 
> We’ve only got one more chapter left before we officially move on to the philosophers stone!

Harry had been kept in the cupboard for a week, a whole week! He was only allowed out to go to the bathroom and it was ridiculous. 

He's been feeling ill and tired, drained and weak. He can hardly keep his eyes open at all and his voice is so little. He has massive bags under his eyes and his tummy hurts.

He's not been eating properly and therefore not sleeping properly. Plus, Dudley makes it his mission to make him as miserable as possible for ruining his birthday by constantly kicking and banging on the cupboard door from the outside. He also jumps on the staircase above him, making all the dust fall onto Harry's head and causing him to wheeze.

When Harry is finally allowed out, he glared daggers at aunt Petunia and heads into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Dudley already made himself some cereal and is scoffing it down in the dining room so she doesn't ask him to make him breakfast, therefore she just walks away and leaves him alone. 

He's shaking slightly and his stomach is aching. He knows what that means and he bets anything the wicked woman knows what she was doing. She was deliberately starving him because she's evil, that's all. They all are. 

He clutches his stomach and opens the fridge, quickly rummaging through the food before anyone comes back, and finds some strips of bacon. It's not perfect but they're edible and _uncooked_ and _raw_ and smell so good and his mouth salivates. Before he realises what he's doing, he's shoving mouthfuls of it in without a second thought, moaning happily at the pleasant feeling he always gets that runs through his body. 

Once he's done, he washes up and arranges the food back into place to make sure it looks like nothing has been taken. If anyone asks, he'll just say Dudley ate it. He already eats so much, they'll probably believe him. 

He doesn't feel perfect, not like he usually does, but it's taken some of the edge off. He can lift his head more now and his stomach pains have significantly decreased, so progress.

He decides he's going to spend his first day out of the cupboard out of house completely. He doesn't want to be in this shipwreck any longer. It's giving him bad vibes. He goes to get dressed and aunt Petunia raises an eyebrow at him once he's heading for the door.

"Just where do you think you're going?" 

"Out." He says casually and shrugs. 

Her eyes bug out her skull. "Out? What do you mean out? You can't, you have chores to do!" She snaps.

"You have a son right there." He points to Dudley who is sitting on the couch watching tv. "Make him do it." 

"Dudley has friends coming over." Aunt Petunia says sharply. "You have nothing else to do." 

"I'm going for a walk and getting fresh air. I at least deserve that, considering I've been locked up for a week!" He snaps furiously. Here comes the temper, uh oh. 

Dudley turns to watch the commotion with interest.

"How dare you! You deserved that, be glad you didn't get worse!" She yells back. 

"Be glad?!" Harry yells. "For what? Getting locked in a tiny cramped space? Getting starved? Getting made fun of?" He listed off with his fingers. "Oh, yes aunt Petunia. I'm so grateful!" He snarls.

Dudley's jaw has dropped open yet he has smartly decided to remain quiet, lest he feel Harry's wrath too.

Aunt Petunia's eyes were like fire, burning right into him with hatred. "Trust me, it could have gone a whole lot worse if we wanted it to. And it still can, if you keep up this attitude." She threatens.

Harry snorts at her. "There's nothing you can do that will hurt me, aunt Petunia." He crosses his arms and glares. "I mean, look at my face! I've taken the worst of it!" He snaps.

She looks over his scars which look painfully red today and winces. "Yes, well it's your own fault you got yourself injured. You're just like your mother that way. Always seeking out trouble!" She snaps at him.

Harry gapes at her for a second before screaming. "I hate you!" He runs towards the front door and storms out, ignoring the sting of the bright, hot sunlight. He honestly didn't think she'd stoop that low, he underestimated her wickedness. He ought to be more careful.

He keeps walking to the end of the street with his head held low, chin tucked to his chest. He doesn't want anyone to see him this way. Doesn't want anyone to see the tears that are silently falling down his cheeks. He finally gets around a corner away from all the houses and sinks to the ground, back against the wall and just lets it all out, sobbing hard, bringing his legs up to his chest and burying his head there. 

He doesn't know how long he's cried for, only that his nose is runny and his eyes are way too swollen and puffy. If anyone asks, he'll blame it on the summer pollen from the flowers.

Sometimes he really hates his life and wishes it could all just end. He wishes he could be with his parents, in wizard heaven or wherever it is you go after you pass.

He knows his parents didn't die in a car crash now, he know they died fighting for their lives, there was a madman trying to kill them all and unfortunately they got attacked and didn't make it, but he did. 

If they survived, would he have had a better life? Filled with happiness and laughter? Love and magic? Would he have friends? Would he be taught all the things he's supposed to be taught? Would he be going to this magic school? 

It's a nice thing to think about and he likes to believe all the answers are yes. But he'll never know. 

Aunt Petunia never tells him anything and he's never met anybody else who's known his parents to find out anything, either. 

He wishes he had answers for so many things these days. _'When will I get them? Will I?'_ He sighs and shakes his head, pointless asking when nobody is listening.

* * *

Aunt Petunia wasn't happy with him. After his little fit yesterday, she's been acting even more hostile towards him than usual. He has such names he wants to call her but he's better than that. 

She decided it would be a neat form of revenge to drop him off at Mrs Figg's for the day while she took Dudley shopping for some fancy school uniform. He'd been accepted to Smelting's Academy, a school which uncle Vernon used to go to. 

Mrs Figg decided it would be good mental torture to show him pictures of her cats and tell him stories about how they grew up and what they ate. He felt like ripping his hair out. Eventually she drifted off to sleep, her broken leg propped up on the coffee table. He nibbles on his chocolate biscuits and gags, throwing them down on the plate with a frown.

Yup, he still hates chocolate. He sighed as a cat nearby hissed at him. 

"Go away." He told it, moodily. 

It suck up it's nose at him and left. 

After a few hours, he was finally able to come back home and, for once in his life, he wishes he'd stayed at Mrs Figg's.

Dudley was standing in the middle of the living room wearing a ridiculous looking uniform with a stupid matching hat and silly stick. Uncle Vernon kept saying how proud he was of his son. 

_'Of what, learning to dress himself?'_

"You're growing up so quickly Dudley." He sighed. 

Aunt Petunia's eyes were watery and she was hugging him, all the while with a smile on her face. Dudley looked like he was loving all the attention, obviously.

Harry's ribs hurt from holding in laughter. This whole situation was absurd. He snorted accidentally and when everyone turned to him he disguised it as a cough, making all of them turn away. He sighed in relief.

"Quick, lets get pictures." Aunt Petunia's happy voice spoke up and Harry rolled his eyes. He walked away from them all and went to sit on the staircase. He could hear them all laughing, it was sickening. 

Speaking of sickening, his belly still hurts. Maybe he should ask for some medicine? No, he'll never get it. He'll have to suck it up as per usual. He winced as he felt the familiar churning begin. 

He had a pathetic slice of toast for breakfast this morning and lunch today was a handful of the biscuits he got from Mrs Figg which he didn't even eat. He needs something else. 

_’You know what you need...'_ a distant voice told him in the back of his head. _'Go get it.'_ Harry swallowed a lump in his throat and slowly got up. He peeked into the room where the Dursley's were, they were still all too busy taking pictures to notice him doing anything. 

He nodded to himself and snuck into the kitchen, heading for the fridge and opening it up. He sniffed about for something he found interesting and his nose picked it up. 

It was some mince in a pot and it was cooked already, but it's all he has. His stomach let out a rumble and he tucked right in, getting a spoon this time, not wanting to cause too much of a mess. He ate it all and when he was done, he expected to feel satisfied but somehow he didn't. This has happened before, a while ago. 

What did he do to fix it? That's right, he ate raw meat. 

But there's none here, is there? He started shifting uncomfortably and took deep breaths. At least he still has food in his system, at all. So he's not starving. But, it still doesn't feel right. 

He sighs and cleans up after himself, deciding to just forget about it for now. Maybe he can go to the shop later or something. Right now, all he wants is to lay down, he's so tired. 

He walks slowly back towards his cupboard, ignoring the laughter coming from the other room and the clicking of the camera and groans pathetically to himself. He doesn't want to spend any more time than he has to in this cramped place but he is just so exhausted. 

He climbs inside the cupboard and collapses straight onto his smelly mattress, thankfully, passing out as soon as his head hits the pillow.

* * *

He wakes up several hours later in agony. His body is sweaty and his clothes are sticking to him, he feels out of breath and his chest and belly hurts. His joints hurt and he digs his nails into his palms causing them to bleed, yet again, but he doesn't care. He clutches at his hair and tugs so hard he actually rips some of it out, but he pays it no mind. 

He knows he's growling again, he can feel the vibration deep from within his chest with every breath he lets out, now that he's starting to understand it. 

He feels rage and fire burning within him, as if something is trying to get out, as if something is trying to be set _free_ from deep within. His scars on his body burn. His face throbs and his chest aches, he doesn't have a mirror to see his face but when he lifts up his shirt to see his body, the scars are bright red and look like they're about to start bleeding. 

It's horrific. It's agony.

He starts kicking and punching at the door with everything he has, screaming at the top of his lungs, not even words, just screaming his voice hearse until he fears he'll lose it.

He hears sudden footsteps arrive and the door being yanked open. He quickly realises it wasn't locked and remembers it's because he wasn't put in here, he went in himself, so he could have left if he wanted to. But he doesn't think about it for more than a second because suddenly more rages of anger wash over him and those are his _only_ thoughts.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?!" Aunt Petunia screeches at him. "Stop screaming like a lunatic!" 

Harry suddenly throws himself out the cupboard with such speed it shocks both of them. He's standing before her within a second and she's eyeing him warily. "Shut up!" He yells at her.

"Don't tell me to shut up, who do you think you are?" She scolds him.

"Stop it! Just stop it!" He screams loudly at her. "Stop treating me like that!" 

"Like what?" She asks sarcastically. "Like you're a disobedient child? Because that's exactly what you are!" 

Harry starts punching the walls and screaming again, losing any amount of self control he has. 

Dudley and uncle Vernon both hear the noise and come to see what's happening. 

"What is happening here?" Uncle Vernon's loud voice booms through the hallway.

"Not you, too." Harry says bitterly at him. "You both think you're so special but you're not! You think I'm nothing but that's not true!" He yells with his hands clenched. "I'm special, my parents loved me!"

"You really believe in that rubbish?" Aunt Petunia's sharp voice snapped back at him. 

"Yes, I do! They were good people who died protecting me, I know it! You're all bad people." He spat at them. "And I hate you all."

Dudley was staring at him with wide eyes, he obviously thought he'd officially gone mad if he dared talked to them like that.

"Well, we don't exactly like you either." Aunt Petunia spat back at him. "You're an insolent little tyke and not worth our time! Now, enough of this nonsense right now and get to your cupboard!"

"No." Harry crossed his arms and glared at her.

"What did you say?" She asked surprised.

"No!" He yelled.

"Why, you little..." Uncle Vernon growled, walking towards him and trying to grab him. Harry ducked under his arm and bolted towards the front door, thankful that it was unlocked. He'd seriously break it down if it wasn't. "Get back here now, boy!"

"No, I can't stay here right now. I'm leaving." He snapped and walked out the door, slamming it hard behind him. He heard voices yelling behind him but didn't bother looking back, just walked out of there with his head held up high and trying to control his temper.

He saw a grey cat sitting on a nearby wall watching him intently, only this time it didn't run off hissing like he expected. If he didn't know any better, he'd say it looked worried. It tipped its head to the side and gave a sniff, eyes going wider, however, it still didn't run off. 

He eyed the thing back cautiously and scoffed. "Go away, stupid cat. I'm not worth your time." He told the thing pathetically and it shook its head, as if understanding and disagreeing with him. 

He rolled his eyes at it and ignored its silly behaviour, taking off running at a fast pace down to the end of the street and out of view. 

He ran and ran as far as he could until he was out of breath and had to stop. He realised he was in some kind of field and just sat down on the grass. He let the angry tears slip down his face and took deep breaths. 

It was nighttime and he's hungry and tired, he should be eating dinner like a regular person or getting ready for bed like everyone else but instead he's running away from home and sitting in the middle of nowhere. How nice.

He sighed and looked up at the night sky, seeing all the twinkly stars and smiling. He likes seeing them, they're so far away, he wants to go live on one. He then looks over at the big bright moon which was now emerging from behind some clouds and glows in the sky, smiles for a second before doubling over and letting out a giant scream. 

He starts to hyperventilate. His breath is coming out in large growls and his body aches. The scars burn more than ever, they feel as painful as the day he got them. He clutches at every part of his body, trying to massage himself to lessen the pain but nothing works, it just intensifies every second. 

His head feels like it's splitting open and his nails dig into his palms, his teeth bite into his lip and tongue, filling his mouth with blood which he has to spit out. His vision starts to black out and all he can do is _scream._

He feels himself change, as if something is taking over. His mind begins to drift. He's distantly aware of his clothes beginning to shred away from his body and his he feels himself rise up from the ground, as if he's standing up taller, he feels as if his arms are getting longer and he can reach out and grab anything and his teeth feel razor sharp when he touches them with his tongue. 

He's full of anger and hate, he wants to destroy anything that gets in his way, he's never been so mad until this very point. All he knows is destruction. He doesn't want anything or anyone coming near him because he knows for a fact that he'll end up jumping on them, damn the consequences. He can't stop the growling, it just gets more intense.

The last thing he remembers is hearing a giant _howl_ and somehow it feels as if it's coming from deep within his own chest, the vibrations are there, as he always remembers, and then everything goes blank. 

* * *

He groans and clutches at his head, wincing as the bright sunlight hits his face. Is it sunlight? It feels like it. Wait, why would there be sunlight? His cupboard doesn't contain sunlight. What's going on? Where is he?

He slowly sits up and blinks his eyes to focus more, taking a look around him. The first thing he notices is that he's in a forest, completely alone and surrounded by nothing but trees and bushes. 

_’Okaaayyy...'_ He thinks confused.

The second thing he notices is that he's naked. Literally, not even a sock on him. Naked as the day he was born. He blushes bright red even though there's nobody around to see. 

_'How on Earth am I going to get home if I've no clothes? Where are my clothes, anyway? How did I get here? Where is here? Why am I here? What's happening?'_ He's so confused and disoriented. 

Wasn't he arguing with the Dursley's? Yes, and then he ran away. He was in a field and looking up at the sky. He was admiring the stars and moon. But that's all he remembers. What happened after that? 

Then the third thing he notices is his body. It's completely covered in scratches and bruises. His arms have dried blood on them and small claw marks, as do his legs, as if he's been scratching away at himself angrily. Why would he do that? He doesn't remember anything! 

He stands up unsteadily and covers himself up, just incase someone might be on a stroll. He walks up to some bushes and grabs some large leaves, using that to cover himself in places he doesn't want to be seen. It's so ridiculous, he's not bloody Peter Pan. 

He begins walking around for a while, looking for a way out, until he sees a trail. He sighs in relief and heads towards it, seeing that it leads towards your regular path that must take you to town. 

He sucks up his pride and dignity, holds the leaves in place and walks on, following the path that leads to crowded areas. He eventually spots some small shops and grins. This is his chance. He's pretty small so he peeks through a shop window and sees the cashier with his back turned. 

His jacket is laying on the counter carelessly, so Harry slowly opens the door and ducks behind the counter before he's caught. When he has the chance, he quickly grabs the guy's jacket, slips it on and sneaks out the shop. He's not caught as he doesn't hear voices screaming behind him, telling him to come back. 

He feels bad for the guy but it's not like he can walk all the way home naked with only leaves to protect himself. Any kind of weirdo could snatch him up. The jacket is big enough to cover him down to his knees so he'll be fine. 

He recognises this area, aunt Petunia took him here to get haircuts, or where she told the barber to just shave it all off. He then rebelled and grew all his hair back the next day. With magic, of course.

It takes about twenty minutes to walk home and he takes a deep breath before walking up to the front door. It's locked.

He sighs and thinks of banging on the door, but they'll just start a fuss and everyone will hear and then it'll be his fault he's embarrassed them in front of the neighbours even though they could have just taken it inside and shut the door. 

He looks around the house and checks the windows, spotting the back door one open. He brings a deck chair up to the wall and climbs up on it, reaching up to the window and climbing in, like a pro. 

He checks to see if anyone is up yet but it must still be pretty early because it's still quiet. He goes to the kitchen sink and gets a wet rag, washing himself of all the blood. It stings bad but he pays it no mind. He's had worse.

He doesn't have a mirror and he doesn't want to go upstairs so he uses a spatula to check his reflection. His face looks okay, his lip is bitten through quite badly though, as well as his tongue. But they'll heal. He also has major bags under his eyes but if he gets some rest, surely they'll lessen up.

Once he's done with his cleaning, he goes to the cupboard and puts some proper clothes on, then heads to the kitchen to get something to eat. He immediately scents out some extra bacon slices and even though they're still not as appealing, they'll do. 

Once he's finished, he starts to feel better. He definitely needed some food in him. He's so confused as to how he feels, it's as if somehow he's let off steam. It's a difficult concept to grasp, but yesterday he felt so full of rage and hate and even though he doesn't feel perfect, he feels as if something changed within him and he let out a whole lot of negative energy he was holding in. It's quite refreshing, in a way. 

Seriously, what happened?

Speaking of negative energy, he hears footsteps and just knows it's aunt Petunia as she's always the first one up. When she sees him standing in her kitchen, her eyes go wide.

"How did you get in here?! The door was locked." She asked angrily.

"But your window wasn't." He grinned, pointing to the one he climbed through.

She narrowed her gaze at him. "You think you can just come back here after your stunt yesterday?" 

"Well, last time I checked, I live here. Against my will, of course. But I still do." He said casually.

"We deserve an apology." She snapped.

"For what?" He raised an eyebrow. 

"For your attitude! And storming off without any approval." 

"Oh, trust me, I know you approved." He grinned at her. 

She glared hatefully at him and then looked him up and down. "What trouble did you get up to this time? You look a mess."

"I didn't do anything, aunt Petunia. This is just what a person looks like when they sleep outdoors because they know they're not wanted at home." He glared back at her.

"Quite right." She snapped and pointed to the cupboard. "Now go to-" 

He cut her off with a wave of his hands. "I know, I know. Go to my cupboard. Just shut up, will you?" She gaped at him and he smirked, walking inside and slamming the door behind himself, sulking on the mattress. 

He hated her! He hated them all, he wants to leave. Go somewhere he's wanted. Why can't that happen? One can only dream.

* * *

Harry tried to put his thoughts together for a few days but came up blank. He felt stupid, as if everything his relatives were telling him was true. He still couldn’t figure out what happened. He still had his funny cravings and anger outbursts. He felt like he was becoming an entirely different person and somehow he knew it wasn’t puberty. That there was no point in asking anybody because they wouldn’t be able to help. 

Aunt Petunia told him one day that she, Dudley and uncle Vernon were going out for the day and that he was to go stay st Mrs Figg’s because he wasn’t wanted. He didn’t want to go, so he did what any kid would do. 

He threw a tantrum. 

He started kicking and screaming, yelling how he didn’t want to go to the cat lady’s house, how he’ll scream over there too. Seeing aunt Petunia’s eyes go wide at that, she finally relented.

“Fine! You can stay at home by yourself. But don’t you dare break anything or you’re in serious trouble.” She warned.

He nodded obediently and she hummed, walking off with her evil family. He was happy to finally be alone. He just sat back and watched tv, listened to music and jumped on Dudley’s bed. He spat on his pillow and laughed. 

He then entered his aunt and uncle’s room and wiped his dirty hands, which had mud on them from from the garden, all over their bed.

Serves them right, he thought bitterly.

After a couple of hours he heard the doorbell ring and was confused. Was it Piers? He shouldn’t be coming around. If he is here, he’d love to give him a piece of his mind. 

He opened the door with a polite smile anyway. What he didn’t expect to see on the other side of the door was a tall looking man, quite old, with a long beard and wearing funny looking clothes.

He raised an eyebrow at him. “Uh, hello?” 

“You must be Harry.” He said kindly. “Look how much you’ve grown since the last time I saw you.” He said with a fond smile. 

“Right.” Harry was shocked. This man knew him? “Who are you?” 

“Oh, forgive me.” The man said with a laugh. “I forget you were only a tiny baby then, of course you wouldn’t remember. My name is Albus Dumbledore. I’m the headmaster of a school called Hogwarts.” 

Harry’s mouth dropped open. This was the man who his mother spoke proudly of? “Hold on. You mean-“ 

“Yes, dear boy. I was very close with your mother.” He smiled at him. Wow, it’s like he read his mind for a second there. “And your father, too.”

Harry gulped and nodded his head. “Okay. Come in then.” He stepped aside to let him in the house, believing he was telling the truth. 

“Thank you.” He came inside and stepped into the living room, taking a quick look around, before pulling out a sweet from his pocket. “Lemon drop?”

Harry eyed it for a second before shaking his head. “No, thank you.” He sat down and Dumbledore did she same, sitting on the chair across from him. 

“Now, I assume you’re wondering why I’m here.” He asked calmly.

“Kinda, yeah...” Harry mumbled, picking with his nails. “Although, not to be rude or anything, but I don’t think you can stay long. My relatives-“ 

Dumbledore cut him off with a raised hand. “I understand. Some people are a little skeptical about our kind.” He smirked at him, making Harry grin. “I won’t stay too long, I only came to inform you of some things, Harry. You need to know this.” 

Harry’s eyebrows raised and he nodded, suddenly nervous. “Know what?”

“You know what you are, don’t you?” He asked with a questioning look.

“Yes, I figured it out a while ago, actually. I’m... I’m a wizard, aren’t I?” He asked with wide eyes. “That’s what aunt Petunia says, but she doesn’t like saying it.” 

Dumbledore nodded. “That is correct, well done. You are a wizard, just like your father was one and your mother was a witch.” He smiled at him. “They were both very powerful and brave.” 

Harry smiled to himself. “I believe you.”

“Good.” Suddenly Dumbledore’s demeanour changed and he got a bit more serious. He leaned forward and looked him in the eyes intently. “Now, I understand you’ve been feeling a little uneasy lately, Harry.” Seeing Harry nod sadly, he continued. “Do you understand why that is?”

“I honestly have no idea, sir. I tried figuring it out, really!” He said frustrated. “But I just can’t!” He saw Dumbledore nod in understanding. “Ever since I got attacked by that stupid dog...” he mumbled annoyed. “I don’t know, I’ve just been feeling a little weird, that’s all.”

“Weird how, my boy?” Dumbledore asked kindly. Seeing Harry shift nervously, he smiled at him and put a hand over his chest. “I promise, there are no judgements here.”

Harry nodded and decided to open up. This man was a wizard, maybe he could help with magic! 

“Well, I’ve been so angry lately. Like, _really_ angry, I feel like I might do something. I won’t though! But I hate when that happens. It’s not a nice feeling.” He mumbled sadly. Seeing Dumbledore’s sympathetic smile, he sighed and continued. “And I’ve been getting these really weird stomach aches. The only thing that makes it go away is if I eat-“ he coughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his head. “Raw meat.” He winced, waiting for a laugh or scolding, but he said he wouldn’t judge. 

He looked over at the man and he was simply listening to him with a kind expression. Huh, maybe he was telling the truth. 

“It’s okay, you can continue if you want. Is there anything else?” He asked with a smile.

“Well, I used to wear glasses, but now I don’t need them at all because I can see everything. And I can hear when aunt Petunia talks about me on the phone because my hearing’s gotten really good. Plus I can smell so many different things, it’s a bit annoying sometimes.” He cringes. “There’s other stuff too, but it’s all just stupid.” He sighed, suddenly so tired.

Dumbledore nodded along to what he was saying, as if he understood everything. He had a look of compassion on his face. Harry expected confusion or disgust but he was relieved to find there was none. 

“And, pardon me for bringing it up, but your scars. Do they affect you in any way?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

Harry nodded slightly. “They hurt at night time for some reason and if I’m really upset, too. Sometimes they go really red, they’ve been doing that recently.” He said with a frown. 

Dumbledore seemed to be done with his questions because he clapped his hands and sat up straighter. 

“Well, I believe I have the answers to your questions, Harry.” He said confidently. “I just had to ask some questions of my own first, to be on the safe side, but now I am for sure certain.” He said with a smile.

“Answers? To what? You know what’s wrong with me?” Harry asked with desperate hope in his eyes, near enough falling off his seat.

“Yes, my boy. I know what is wrong with you.” Dumbledore told him calmly. “That night you were attacked, it was not a dog, nor was it a bear or any kind of animal that you know of.” He said leaning forward to look Harry in the eyes seriously. “It was a werewolf.” 

Harry’s eyes went wide and he remained silent for a moment before giggling. “Seriously? This has to be a joke. There’s no such thing.” He said. Although he was shaking with anxiety, something was telling him this man wasn’t kidding. 

Dumbledore sighed and shook his head. “I wish I were kidding. It would be so much easier if I were.” He said sadly. “But unfortunately I am not. In our world, we have many magical creatures. Dragons, centaurs, unicorns, all different kinds of things. And of course, werewolves.” 

Harry stared in shock. Is he for real? Of course he’s for real. He looks so serious. 

“Well, what is a werewolf exactly, sir?” He asked confused. He’d like to know what kind of magical being thought it would be a good idea to try and rip him apart.

Dumbledore clasped his hands. “A werewolf Harry, is a person who identifies as magical being as they are no longer human.” Harry’s eyes went wide at that. Non-human people? “They physically transform into large wolves once a month when the full moon is in the sky, with no control over it. They also leave behind their human minds and shift into their animal’s state of mind.” He said seriously. 

“Whoa, that doesn’t sound pleasant.” Harry said uncomfortably. Why does this sound familiar?

“Yes. It is known to be a very painful and scary experience. They don’t have any control over their actions during this time and can often hurt or kill people who get too close, unfortunately. They don’t even remember what happens when they shift back into their human mind and form.” Dumbledore was eyeing him curiously. 

“Oh.” Harry said with a frown.

“Harry, do you know where I’m going with this?” Dumbledore’s soft voice broke through Harry’s train of thought.

Something inside of him was clicking, telling him that all the answers he wanted were _right there._ He swallowed and shifted in his seat.

He remained silent for a moment before taking in a deep, shuddering breath. “So... what does this mean?” Somehow, he knew what this meant. He just didn’t want to admit it to himself. He needed someone else to do it for him. 

Dumbledore eyed Harry cautiously before speaking up. “When a person gets attacked or bitten by a werewolf, especially on a full moon night, the infection we call lycanthropy is then spread to that person, which then turns them into a werewolf.” He spoke clearly, letting Harry take all of it in. “Harry, what I’m trying to say is that-“

“You’re telling me that _I’m_ a werewolf.” Harry clarified, finally admitting it to both Dumbledore and himself bravely. He was no coward. 

Dumbledore simply nodded. “It is something you will learn more about in your third year of Hogwarts.” He told him.

Harry’s eyes went wide.

“Wait, I can still go?” He asked in shock. “You’re the headmaster, aren’t you going to tell me I can’t go?” 

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at him. “Why would I do that?”

“Because... I’m dangerous and ugly!” He yelled. “I’m a beast! I turn into some animal and might kill someone. You can’t let me get near anybody, I’m too dangerous, sir.” He started to hyperventilate, standing up and clutching at his chest. 

Dumbledore stood up too, putting his hands on his shoulder and sat him back down, sitting next to him. “Calm down Harry, it’s okay. There’s a magical remedy for it. It’s called Wolfsbane Potion. You take it for three days, right as the full moon is coming at the end of the month. It’ll stop you from transforming. It tastes quite gruesome and it’ll be a few days of sickness and tiredness, wrapped up in blankets in bed, lots of drinking water and eating meat, but once it’s over, I promise you’ll feel so much better than you do now.” 

“Really?” Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes. You’ll have to wait for it to build up in your system, of course. You can only take it for three days out of the month, but the effects will still linger for the rest of the month as time goes by. It won’t happen right away, as I’ve explained. You have to give it time and patience.” He said gently. 

Harry nodded but then a thought popped into his head. “But I can’t get any of that stuff here. Aunt Petunia won’t let me eat loads of meat like that and I don’t know where to get this special potion.” Harry huffed.

Dumbledore simply smiled at him. “You’ll be getting your Hogwarts letter in a few weeks, so don’t worry about that. We can take care of all your needs at school.” He said with a promise. 

“I will?” He asked with raised eyebrows. “But aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon don’t want me going to Hogwarts.” 

“Well, it’s not their decision. You’re a big boy who gets to make his own choices.” He smiled at him. “And I take it you want to join us?” Seeing Harry’s quick nod, he smiled. “Well then, I’ll look forward to receiving your letter.” 

“But what if everyone find out?” Harry asked nervously. “I don’t want people looking at me funny and saying things. Especially when they see my face.”

“I’ll have to inform the faculty, of course, but we shall do our absolute best to make sure the news doesn’t get out for your safety and comfort.” He smiles at him. “There’s teachers there who will support you personally and who will brew the potion for you, you don’t need to worry.” 

“Thank you, sir.” He said gratefully. Dumbledore nodded and stood up, brushing himself off. “Wait, how did you know what was going on? Did someone give you a phone call?” He asked confused.

Dumbledore chuckled and shook his head. “Not quite. We’ve had some people watching over you for a little while now, just to make sure you were okay. We did get some news back that said there may have been a problem and so I came to investigate.” He said casually.

Huh, I wonder who’s been looking out for him. Probably some wizard spy or something. Spooky. Like CIA.

“What do I do if I get the weird stomach pains again? I don’t like going through that.” Harry cringed. 

Dumbledore suddenly pulled out a vial and handed it to Harry. “I know it’s a few hours late but I’m sure it’ll do no harm. If you drink it quickly enough, you should be fine.” 

Harry shrugged and quickly chugged back the vial of liquid, not asking what it was. He cringed and gagged once it was down, glaring at the man who was now chucking and putting away the vial. “What was that?!”

“That, my boy, was Wolfsbane Potion.” Dumbledore said. “I told you, it’s not the nicest, but it’ll help. Just don’t add sugar or anything to it, it’ll ruin it instantly.” He instructed him. “Now you know what to expect when the next moon comes.” 

Harry cringed and nodded. “Can’t wait.”

“I gave you that one dose so it’ll give you more time to get used to it building up in your system. It’ll be good for next time.” Harry nodded his thanks. “As for the cramping, it should help with it in the long run, that’s the point. It should also help with cravings too, so they’re less frequent.” 

Harry sighed relived. Thank god, he didn’t want to constantly walk around feeling like some sort of cannibal. If this disgusting potion can help these cravings and cramps go away, he’ll gladly drink only this for the rest of his life.

Dumbledore decided it was time to go, he didn’t want the Dursley’s coming back and seeing him. Just as he was about to leave he door, Harry spoke up again.

“Sir, why do you know so much about werewolves? Why aren’t you scared of them? Of _me?_ ” He asked nervously. “I’m not even human...” He whispered.

Dumbledore’s eyes looked sad but he smiled anyway. “I met a boy about your age who was a werewolf just like you are. He also had the same worries about going to school and hurting others.” Harry’s eyes went wide at that. “But he took his medicine and had friends who supported him. He went on to become a great wizard, just like I know you will. He didn’t let it hold him back.” He smiled sincerely at him.

“Who was this boy, sir?” Harry asked curiously.

“He was one of your parent’s best friends.” Dumbledore smiled at him before leaving the house. 

Harry just gaped at him for a moment before sighing and leaning against the wall. His parents were best friends with a werewolf?! Does this mean they wouldn’t be embarrassed of him? They wouldn’t be ashamed of him? 

Probably not. 

The thought brought happy tears to his eyes and a small smile to his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and leave kudos if you like what you read <3


	6. First Visit To The Magical World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we’ve finally finished! YAYAY! 
> 
> This is just the prologue so not to be alarmed, there’s still sooo much more 😆
> 
> The next instalment will be called Stones And The Moon. It’ll be the Philosophers Stone au, so get ready! 
> 
> Also this was my longest chapter, nearly 9,000 words! I decided to make it extraaaaa long for a good ending! I’m so nice :’)

It has been a few weeks since Albus Dumbledore had came to visit him in his house and broke the news to him that he definitely was in fact a wizard. He didn't just need to hear it from his aunt and be skeptical, he had actual proof from an actual wizard like himself now. Phew!

He also was relieved to finally have answers to all his problems. Why he was feeling the way he was for these past several weeks and not telling anybody. He was a werewolf.

It actually all made sense, now he thought about it. At first it seemed ridiculous, but he's had time to think about it and come to terms with it. He's starting to accept it. He still feels self conscious and terrible. Not just physically but mentally. He's not human, he's a creature. 

He _definitely_ won't be telling his aunt and uncle. Despite how dangerous he feels, apparently he can only change into his animalistic state once a month and the school said they'd take precautions to make sure he was safe and healthy, which he gratefully appreciates. 

He's also thankful for the fact that he'll be getting medicine to help calm him down. It'll take a while to work, of course. It's just like any other medicine that people take. It may taste gross, but it'll be worth it in the end, he knows it. 

He's excited to be going to Hogwarts. He knows the Dursley's will put up a fight and try to lock him up, they won't want him going away and learning all sorts of nonsense. But they should be grateful. He'll be out of their way, plus they wouldn't have to worry about his monthly issues, if only they knew. 

At least he'll be getting some proper support at Hogwarts. Here, he'll probably snap one day and... he doesn't want to think about it.

The potion that Dumbledore gave him actually worked, just a teensy bit, already. By now, he's usually all crabby and whiny, bent over and holding his tummy, getting frustrated because it's midday and he smells Dudley's lunch which is sausages, yet all he had was buttered bread. 

He still feels pretty wound up but it definitely lessened all of it up. He still feels the beginning signs of anger twitch every now and then. He cracks his knuckles and takes deep breaths, gulping. The bags under his eyes are still prominent and his shirt sticks to his back. 

A few days ago the Dursley's got mail and when Harry was in the middle of making Dudley lunch, aunt Petunia yelled at him to get it. 

"But I'm cooking, get it yourself!" He yelled back grumpily. 

"Dudley, poke him with the stick, will you?" Dudley suddenly grabbed his Smeltings stick and jabbed it right into his ribs making him squirm and glare. Ungrateful peasant. 

He sighed and went to fetch the mail. It was just aunt Petunia's usual Avon rubbish, but alongside it was something else. It was a letter with something inside it and it was rattling. 

It also had his name on the front. 

__

> _Mr H. Potter_
> 
> _Cupboard Under the Stairs_
> 
> _4 Privet Drive_
> 
> _Little Whinging_
> 
> _Surrey_

Harry's eyebrows rose and he quickly ran back to his cupboard, throwing the item inside, careful as to not break it, then went to aunt Petunia and threw her the Avon nonsense. 

He continued making Dudley's lunch for him then went back to the cupboard to see what his mystery surprise was. He opened the package up and three vials were inside, they looked awfully familiar. It was the Wolfsbane Potion. 

Dumbledore must have arranged this for him. He knew he'd need them soon and so he's supplied him enough for a few days so he doesn't go all freaky again. That's very nice of him, he supposes. 

It's also definitely worth the disgusting taste.

He's been sneaking around and getting glimpses of the tv, watching the weather channels. It says the full moon is a few days away and it's making him agitated. 

Only a few weeks ago, the whole ordeal happened and he's still in bloody shock over it. He's got new scars on his legs and arms which annoy him. He really doesn't want people asking questions. What can he say? _'I did it to myself?'_ That'll give people the wrong impression. But if he lies and tells people that others did it to him then that'll make things worse, ugh.

Screw his life. 

He to sighs as he does the cleaning up, smirking as he bangs the hoover into uncle Vernon's feet.

"Watch what you're doing, boy!" He growled. "You nearly ran me over." 

Harry rolled his eyes and turned away, hoovering up Dudley's spilled mess on the floor, crisps everywhere. What a slob. Suddenly, there was a noise at the door. 

"I think that's the mail, uncle Vernon." Harry said casually. "You should go get it."

Uncle Vernon narrowed his eyes at him. "You're the one standing up, get it yourself."

"Why always me? Dudley could do with some exercise." He looked over to where his cousin was, shoving foot down his throat, being all messy. 

"Boy..." uncle Vernon's eyes were icy and Harry sighed. 

"Alright, fine, calm down. I'll go get it." He abandoned the hoover and headed over to the door, picking up all the mail without any interest. He had a quick look through it all until his eyes nearly popped out his skull. 

His name was written on a letter made of parchment. He'd been getting mail a lot recently. It read, 

__

> _Mr H. Potter_
> 
> _The Cupboard Under the Stairs_
> 
> _4 Privet Drive_
> 
> _Little Whinging_
> 
> _Surrey_

Harry's smile grew wide. This was the letter he had been promised by Dumbledore, his Hogwarts acceptance letter. He honestly couldn't believe it! 

"Boy, hurry up!" Uncle Vernon bellowed from the living room.

He knew he'd snatch it off him the instant he saw it and aunt Petunia would toss it in the bin so he shoved it into his trousers and acted as casual as possible. "Here." He said, throwing the rest of the mail onto uncle Vernon's lap, getting a glare in return. "Nothing important."

"Nothing?" Aunt Petunia's voice suddenly spoke up. She'd walked into the room at that moment and taken a long glance at the mail, glaring over every single item received through the door. She raised an eyebrow. It was as if she was looking for something in particular.

Harry mentally smacked himself. Of course she knew he'd be sent a Hogwarts letter one of these days. After all, his mother did. She eyed him warily but he just acted bored and sighed, going back to hoovering quickly, finishing the up the last of it to avoid suspicion. 

Once he was done, he locked himself away in his cupboard and ripped open the letter, reading it with excitement.

He could count this as an early birthday present, considering tomorrow he'll be turning eleven. He's going to stay up all night to wish himself a happy birthday, it's what he does every year considering nobody else bothers to celebrate his birthday with him.

He reads the letter with wide eyes. __

> _HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_
> 
> _Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_
> 
> _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Gran Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Wugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_
> 
> _Dear Mr Potter,_
> 
> _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment_
> 
> _Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31_
> 
> _Yours sincerely,_
> 
> _**Minerva McGonagall,** _
> 
> _**Deputy Headmistress** _

Harry grinned to himself, he really did get accepted. The old man wasn't kidding. But wait... that's tomorrow! How on Earth is he supposed to get a letter back to them tomorrow? He doesn't know how. 

He doesn't know the address it came from, the post code or anything. What does he do? He sighs and leans his head back against the wall. Just his luck. Always getting his hopes up.

He'll try and figure something out. Maybe he could go to the post office and see if they know anything. Yeah, that'll be a good idea. He'll do that first thing in the morning, he'll say that he's going shopping or a walk to get out of aunt Petunia's way. She loves that. 

He stays in his cupboard shifting anxiously for the rest of the night, both uncomfortable from the issue with the letter and the fact that he's trying to control his episodes again. He can feel the beginning signs of it emerging. 

He reaches into a shelf of his cupboard and picks up one of the vials of potions, quickly chugs it back and grimaces. It takes everything he has not to puke but he remains strong.

Soon enough he'll be kicking and screaming. Not today, but possibly tomorrow, if the potions don't work as efficiently as they're supposed to yet.

And it's on his freaking birthday! Of all the days, just his luck. Happy birthday indeed. Although it is the end of the month, he should have been more mentally and emotionally prepared. 

It still hurts though, to know that this is what he'll have to do for the rest of his life. Spend his birthday loaded up on potions and in bed away from people because he's a danger. 

He starts tearing up, the emotions he's been trying to hold back no longer able to do so. He brings his legs up to his chest and cries into them. 

Damn his emotions, he knows it's just the disease hormones talking. At least that's what he tells himself. That's a pretty good excuse to use now. 

After a while he calms down and just sighs, staring ahead at nothing. He gets lost in thoughts, listening in to the tv through the door with his good hearing and counting down the minutes until midnight. 

When he hears the giant clock they have in the living room strike twelve, he smiles and wishes himself a happy birthday, sadly. Then he rolls over and falls asleep.

* * *

The next day, Harry wakes up early to aunt Petunia banging on his door. His eyes shoot open and he glares hatefully at the door. He wishes he could burn a hole through it with his mind.

He sits up and stretches. His body aches and he's still tired. Screw her for waking him up. Although, this might be a good thing, because now he can run off to the post office and see if they know anything about Hogwarts. Or will they think he's mad? He sighs and rubs his eyes. He doesn't feel up for this today, but it's his last day to do it.

He gets out of his cupboard and goes to get ready. Once he's cleaned up and properly dressed, he goes to cook breakfast for everyone before aunt Petunia starts screaming at him. He can't deal with her shrieking voice. Not today. Any other time he could put up with it but today he just _can't._ If she knew why, she'd never come near him again. He's almost tempted to tell her, but that'd be suicide.

He sighs as he leans back against the kitchen counter, taking deep breaths to calm himself. He munches slowly on his toast, a bitter expression on his face. It's not what he wants, it's not what he _needs._

What he needs right now is a big juicy steak with blood still dripping from it. The thought makes his mouth water. Maybe he could shoplift. Should the potion tonight help with those cravings, though? Dumbledore said they can only do so much in such a short period of time. Damnit.

Dudley and uncle Vernon finish their food and go to sit in the living room, laughing at the tv. Harry's just finishing up his toast and washing his hands when he decides to start on the dishes. When he's done, he suddenly hears a loud banging on the door. He raises his eyebrows at the noise. 

Who can possibly be here this early and making such a racket? He's cleaning up the plates therefore he's unable to answer the door. Aunt Petunia goes to get it and suddenly he hears a loud scream. He jumps and drops the plate he was holding into the sink, luckily not breaking it.

"What on Earth are you doing here?" She shrieks at the person at the door.

"Nice to see ye too again, Petunia. Can I come in?" A loud and gruff voice spoke up from the doorway. He obviously didn't get permission as she yells at him to get out.

Harry hears massive footsteps enter the house and head into the living room and then hears Dudley and uncle Vernon gasp. What is going on? 

"What is happening here? You're not welcome! Go away this instant or I'll hit you with the stick." Uncle Vernon threatened the man who was now in their home, obviously meaning to harm him with the Smeltings stick. Harry had to hold in a snort.

He goes to see what's going on, peeking round the corner. 

"Oh, dry up Dursley, you old prune." The man rolls his eyes and yanks the Smeltings stick out of uncle Vernon's hands, throwing it behind himself. Uncle Vernon's face turns red with anger. 

Harry just gapes. Not only does this man have severe courage to come into their home and face uncle Vernon like this, but he seems to know them both. Plus, the man is huge! How can a man be so big? He's like a giant.

"How dare you, who do you think you are?" Uncle Vernon growls.

"I'm the person who's come ter collect young Harry here. Now, where is he?" The man says confused. He glanced at Dudley with raised eyebrows. "I know yer not him. Harry's definitely not on the porky side." 

Dudley turned bright red with embarrassment and clenched his fists. "Shut up!" 

So this man knows him, too. Harry gulped and stepped out from behind the corner, facing the man with his head held high. 

"Um, hi there." He said shyly.

"Harry!" The man said with a happy voice and massive smile, easy to see even behind that beard. "Why, I haven't seen ye since ye were a baby. All tiny and wrapped up in blankets." He said softly. "Yer all grown now. Ye definitely have yer mother's eyes." He said with a smile. 

Harry smiled back, despite not knowing who he was. He seemed kind, that's fair enough. "Um, who are you?" 

The man grinned at him. "I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts." He smiled proudly. 

"Don't talk about it!" Aunt Petunia's sharp voice snapped from behind him.

The man, now known as Hagrid, just ignored her. He handed over a cake he had in a box to Harry with a smile. "Happy birthday, Harry. I'm afraid I mighta sat on it at some point but I reckon it'll taste just the same." 

Harry grinned down at the cake and smiled up at the man. "Thank you." He said genuinely. Nobody had ever gotten him anything for his birthday before.

"No problem, it ain't everyday ye turn eleven, is it?" Hagrid said cheerily. "And ye'v gotten yer letter, I presume?" 

Harry nodded. He knew what he meant.

Apparently aunt Petunia did too because she started screaming. "You did? When? I checked the mail..." she muttered to herself. "You hid it, didn't you?" She glared. Seeing Harry's smirk she scoffed. "Always up to no good. Well, you're not going!"

"I don't think Harry will be wanting ter stay here." Hagrid said defensively. "Right Harry?" 

Harry quickly shook his head in agreement, glad someone was sticking up for him. 

"We will not be having any of that wand waving rubbish in this household. Do you understand?" Uncle Vernon's angry voice bellowed.

"Well, you'll be glad to know I'm not going to be here." Harry snapped back. Hagrid looked proud of him for speaking his mind but also eyed uncle Vernon up, ready to jump in if and when necessary. He seemed very protective, Harry liked that, it felt nice to have someone who cared.

Uncle Vernon glared at him. Dudley wasn't saying anything, just sitting in the corner on a couch, watching the commotion with wide eyes. "Don't try to get smart. Tell me where that letter is so I can burn it." 

"No, I won't." Harry said, crossing his arms.

"I'll actually be needing that." Hagrid said with a smile. "Dun ye worry about a thing, Harry. I'll take care of everything. You just give me yer letter and I'll send it off for ya, it's what I'm here for." He said comfortingly. Harry let out a sigh of relief. Looks like he won't be missing out on writing his letter back after all. 

"Thank you." He said with a nod of his head.

"Of course. I'm also here to take you to get yer school things that ye saw on the letter. Gotta have all of that before ye get ter school, it's vital." He said seriously.

Harry nodded at him again.

"He will not be going to that freak show school!" Uncle Vernon bellowed yet again. "I forbid it." 

“You can’t forbid me from doing things!” Harry yelled at him. “I can make my own decisions. Dumbledore told me that.” 

“Dumbledore?!” Aunt Petunia screeched. “When did you talk to that batty old man?” 

“Don’t ye dare go disrespectin’ Albus Dumbledore in front of me.” Hagrid said defensively.

“He came here not too long ago. He came to tell me that I’ll be getting my Hogwarts letter soon.” Harry grinned at them. He left out the part about him informing him of his werewolf status, of course. “That was the day you left me alone in the house.”

“I knew you were acting odd that day, all smiley and stuff.” Aunt Petunia spat. Hagrid just glared at her. “He can’t go there, he’ll get tainted.” 

“Harry’ll be fine at Hogwarts, it’s the best place for him ter be. With his own kind, learning stuff he should know. It’s his birthright.” Hagrid snapped at aunt Petunia. “After all, don’t ye want to go to the place where yer mum and dad learnt it all?” He grinned at Harry.

“I really do. I want to know all about them. I don’t know anything...” he mumbled to himself.

Hagrid’s eyes went wide. “Anything at all?” Seeing his head shake, he turned on the Dursley’s. “Now just wait a second. Ye’v never told him anythin’ about his parents and the sacrifice they made?” He spoke in outrage.

Aunt Petunia scoffed at him whilst uncle Vernon looked ready to blow an artery. 

“We will not have this-“ 

“Yeah, yeah. Shove off, Dursley.” He scolded Vernon. 

“What do you mean sacrifice?” Harry asked bewildered. “Aunt Petunia told me my parents died because someone tried to kill us but I survived. Isn’t that right?” He asked with wide eyes. He was sick of lies and no answers. 

Hagrid smiled at him. “Thas right, Harry. But first thing ye need to know, not all wizards are good. There was a madman out there who was hellbent on tryna rule the wizarding world. Yer parents fought him, bravely stood up against him ‘till the very end.” He said with a sad look on his face. “He came after yer family and killed yer mum and dad, but you...” Hagrid smiled at him widely. “You got out of there.”

“But how?” Harry asked confused. 

“I’m not too sure yet, but what I do know is that something went down that night and he died, or at least everyone thinks he has, and that the only damage done to ye was that scar left on yer forehead, there.” He shrugged. “Everybody in the whole wizarding world knows yer name, Harry. Yer famous, they all thank you for saving them that night. Yer known as The Boy Who Lived.” 

Harry gulped and took a deep breath. This was a lot to take in. “Okay... Who was this madman, then?”

Hagrid took in a deep breath as if preparing himself and whispered. “His name was Vo-Voldemort.” 

“Voldemort?” Harry asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Shh!” Hagrid hushed him. “We dun say his name.” Harry didn’t bother questioning it. “He’s now known as “You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.” 

Harry shook his head. “That’s a ridiculously long title for a mass murderer.” 

Hagrid sighed and nodded. “Maybe, but there’s a lot of people who are wary of his name, it brings up bad memories, so people dun like hearin’ it.” Harry nodded. He guesses he understands.

“Okay.” 

Hagrid just smiled at him. "Harry, how about ye put that cake away and we get going?"

Harry's eyes went wide. "We're going now?"

"Well, of course now, silly. Gotta get it before it all sells out. Plus, consider it a birthday gift." Hagrid smiled. "A nice wee day out. Ye'll love it. Make sure to bring yer letter."

Harry grinned and nodded, running to his cupboard to put the cake in there, grabbed his letter and ran back to stand with Hagrid who was heading to the door. Harry ducked underneath uncle Vernon who tried to grab him and Hagrid glared at the stupid man, thankfully shoving him away. 

"Get back here!" 

"Oh, go pig out on mud, Vernon. You oversized farm animal." Hagrid grumbled, making Harry laugh hard. 

They walked out the house, ignoring the yelling behind them. Harry still felt sick today but the potions that have been in his system for the last couple of days have been helping and the event that just took place has put a smile on his face, so for now he feels okay.

"Thanks for that, they're not the nicest." Harry mumbled under his breath.

"Pfft, I can certainly tell." Hagrid said irritated. "That Vernon sure is something different, ain't he?" 

"Yeah..." Harry agreed.

Harry followed Hagrid as he led him in the direction that leads to a train station. Huh, okay.

Hagrid was silent for a moment before eying Harry. "You alright, though, Harry? Feeling okay there?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine. I can handle the Dursley's.” Harry said with a shrug.

"That's good, but that's not what I meant." Hagrid said with a frown.

Harry looked up at him confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it's just..." Hagrid sighed. "Tonight. It's the full moon." He looked to Harry warily. "Ye have been taking yer potions, right?"

Oh, that's what he meant. Harry gulped and turned bright red with embarrassment. Looks like all the faculty do know.

"Yeah, I have been taking it." He said quietly.

"Reckon it tastes like rubbish, eh?" Hagrid said with a grin.

Harry looked up at him and shrugged. "Yeah, it's quite gross." 

"Ye'know, nobody is gonna judge you, if that's what yer worried about. Everyone is completely prepared to help you, promise." Hagrid said with a smile. "And I love magical creatures, myself. I think they're all fascinating. So, that means I find you fascinating." He said enthusiastically. "Not that I didn't already, I did since I first laid my eyes on yer wee baby face." He cooed.

Harry smirked at him. He was kind of like a child, for such a giant man.

"Well, thank you Hagrid. All of that means a lot, really." He said, holding back a laugh. He saw Hagrid beam happily and shook his head.

Eventually they reached the train station and got onboard, heading for London.

Whilst they were on the train, Hagrid took Harry's letter and looked over it. Harry only just now noticed a second piece of paper attached to the first, labelling a whole bunch of different items. 

"See here, this is all the stuff ye'll need." He pointed to all the items on the list.

"But I don't have any money, Hagrid." He said sadly.

Hagrid raised his eyebrows at him. "You don't think yer parents left you with nothing before they passed, did ya?" Seeing Harry's blank stare, he sighed. "Yer parents left you quite a bit of money, it's in Gringotts bank. It's run by the goblins. And ye never want ter go messing with a goblin or try to rob them." He said seriously.

Harry nodded at him. "Okay." 

"Some say there's a dragon in Gringotts, guarding all the money." He said staring off into the distance with a smile on his face. "I'd love one of them."

"You'd like a dragon?!" Harry exclaimed in shock. Wouldn't they burn him to pieces?

"Seriously misunderstood creatures, dragons are, Harry." He said seriously. 

Harry just nodded. He didn't know much about them yet, he'd need to educate himself more before he went to school. 

"What do we need to get first Hagrid?" 

"Hmm, let's see."

They both looked over the letter. It read,

__

> _HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_
> 
> _UNIFORM_
> 
> _First-year students will require:_
> 
> _1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)_
> 
> _2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_
> 
> _3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_
> 
> _4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_
> 
> _Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags_
> 
> _COURSE BOOKS_
> 
> _All students should have a copy of each of the following:_
> 
> _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk_
> 
> _A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_
> 
> _Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_
> 
> _A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_
> 
> _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_
> 
> _Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_
> 
> _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_
> 
> _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_
> 
> _OTHER EQUIPMENT_
> 
> _1 wand_
> 
> _1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_
> 
> _1 set of glass or crystal phials_
> 
> _1 telescope set_
> 
> _1 brass scales_
> 
> _Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_
> 
> _PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

"This is a lot of stuff." Harry said with wide eyes. 

"Well, ye'll be learning a lot of new things." Hagrid said with a smile. 

Soon enough, the train arrived in London and they got off. They walked around for a bit until Hagrid took him to a place that was called The Leaky Cauldron. He looked at it with pride, Harry just looked confused.

It was a dusty old pub and an old man was behind the counter. It was crowded with people and as soon as they walked in, Hagrid greeted the man working there. 

"Hagrid! The usual?" 

"Sorry, Tom. I cant, I'm on Hogwarts business." Hagrid told the man named Tom. He smiled down at Harry and Tom's eyes immediately went wide.

"Oh my god, it can't be." His eye drifted up to Harry's forehead. "But it is!" He smiled widely. "It's Harry Potter!" 

This got the attention of everyone in the pub as all chatter stopped and all eyes turned to him. 

"Mr Potter, what an honour it is." A man who came up to him said sincerely.

Someone else came up to him and smiled wide. "Welcome back, Mr Potter."

People were gathering around him trying to shake his hand and had tears in their eyes. He was so overwhelmed and confused. 

He knew he was famous and that people knew his name because of his parents and what went down that night. But he didn't expect people to come up to him and try to ask for freaking autographs. He looked up to Hagrid nervously. 

Hagrid got the message and steered him away from everyone, pulling him up near the counter to be alone. 

There was a lonely man sitting there, pale and wearing long robes with a purple turban around his head. Hagrid seemed to recognise him immediately.

"Professor Quirrell! Nice ter see ye here." He said with a smile.

"A-and you t-too, H-Hagrid." He stuttered out.

"Harry, Professor Quirrell here will be one of yer teachers at Hogwarts."

"Mr P-Potter," he said shaking his hand, "it's a p-pleasure to m-meet y-you." He said with a smile.

"You too." Harry said awkwardly. "What class do you teach?" 

"D-defence against t-the d-dark arts, Mr P-Potter." He stuttered again. "S-something I'm s-sure y-you'll be g-good at." He grinned.

Harry grinned back nervously. This teacher was giving him the creeps. "Maybe." 

"Well, we better be off. Lots to buy." Hagrid thankfully spoke up. "See yer around." Quirrell waved at them as they left and Harry let out a breath of relief.

"What's wrong with him?" He asked.

"Oh, he didn't always used to tremble like that. The poor bloke has a brilliant mind and left school fer a year ter get some first hand experience but some say he had a run in with some vampires and a hag because he's never been the same since. Scared of his students, his shadow and his own class." He shook his head sadly. 

Harry sighed. This'll be a fun class then. 

They came to a stop by a wall where Hagrid got an umbrella and started tapping it against the wall in a pattern. 

Suddenly, the bricks started shifting and opening up, revealing a whole new city on the other side.

"Whoa!" He gasped in amazement.

"Welcome, Harry, to Diagon Alley." Hagrid told him happily.

Harry looked around in wonder as they started walking. He saw a shop with a bunch of cauldrons in it. 

"Will I be needing those?" 

"Oh yeah, for yer Potions class." 

They continued walking and Harry heard some kids talking about some kind of broomstick, the Nimbus 2000, which was apparently the fastest one yet. 

_'I wonder if I'm any good at flying.'_

He spotted robes shops, telescopes on windowsills, books and quills in shops and even some owls. 

"Where are we going, Hagrid?" He asked excitedly.

"Gringotts. We need to get yer money first so we can buy yer things." 

When they reached the tall, white building that stood taller than all the others, there was a small creature standing on the outside. Harry eyed it warily.

"Um..."

Hagrid quickly dragged him along. "That's a goblin. Don't want ter mess with those, like I said." Harry nodded and walked indoors, ears picking up the message that instantly played. 

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn. 

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there. 

As they walked up to the front of the bank where a grumpy looking goblin was sitting at a desk, Harry noticed most of them were eyeing him up distastefully.

"Hagrid, why are they looking at me like that?" He asked nervously.

Hagrid leaned down and whispered in his ear. "They know yer a werewolf, they can sense it." Harry's eyes went wide in panic. Are they going to attack him? "Dun worry, they won't hurt you as long as you show yer not a threat. Just stay calm and follow my lead." Hagrid told him with a smile. 

"Okay." Harry nodded and stayed quiet. Hagrid would take care of everything. 

Hagrid walked up to the goblin at the front desk. "Hello, I'm here to get inside Harry Potter's vault."

"Do you have his key?" The goblin said grumpily.

"It's here somewhere." Hagrid patted all over his jacket which had way too many pockets and finally found it, handing it over. "There ya go." He then pulled out a letter from another pocket. "I also have a letter from Dumbledore about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen." He whispered.

The goblin hummed before nodding. "Very well. I shall have someone take you down to both your vaults." He called for a goblin named Griphook who was informed of the situation. 

They followed him and Harry spoke up. "What's the You-Know-What?" 

"Can't tell ye that, sorry Harry. Top secret Hogwarts business, that is." He eyed Harry. 

Harry shrugged as they both got inside a cart with the goblin which then took them on a rollercoaster ride all throughout the bank, it would seem. It was as if it went on forever. Harry's hair became even more messier than usual, he felt it stick up everywhere. Hagrid's beard was also a mess.

When they finally arrived at Harry's vault, he quickly jumped out the cart and stood up quickly to balance properly. He felt ill, Hagrid looked green too. The goblin didn't seem to care. 

Once the door was open, though, he no longer cared. Inside was filled with mountains of gold and silver. His jaw dropped open, how has this been here this whole time and he's never known about it?

"This is all mine?" He asked in shock.

"Every last sickle." Hagrid grinned.

Harry then put some money into a bag which he'll use to spend on his items for the day and had Hagrid explain to him the differences between Knuts, Sickles and Galleons as they headed off for vault seven hundred and thirteen, this time.

Hagrid asked he goblin to slow down the speed of the cart but he told him that it doesn't go any slower with a nasty grin. Yeah, Harry doesn't like goblins. 

When they arrived at the vault and it opened up, the only thing that was inside was a small brown package. Nothing else, no jewels or money. Just that one item, strange. Harry really wanted to ask what it was but it wasn't his place so he just mentally shrugged off his curiosity and decided to forget about it. 

Hagrid tucked it inside his large jacket and they headed on their way out the bank. When they were outside, Hagrid told him it would be a good idea to go get his robes. 

"Harry, would you manage to do it yourself? I think I need a pick me up. Those rides never make me feel good." He said, clutching his stomach. 

Harry nodded and took off in the direction of Madam Malkin's. When he was indoors, she smiled at him.

"Hogwarts, my dear?" 

"Yes, thank you." He said, smiling back politely. 

She nodded at him. "Well, I've got another boy being fitted right up here. Why don't you come along." 

He followed her and stood up on a stool next to a tall boy about his age. He was pale with pointy features, grey eyes and pure white hair. 

"Hogwarts, too?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes." 

"My father is next door buying me all my books and my mother is up the street at Olivander's looking at wands." He looked bored. "I'm going to try and drag them to see some brooms, I think it's stupid how first years can't have their own brooms in the school or try out for the quidditch team. Wouldn't you agree? Maybe I can talk father into letting me smuggle it in." He grinned mischievously. 

This boy reminded him of a more posh version of Dudley. He immediately gets bad vibes. 

"Oh, that's cool." He says back.

"Do you have your own broom?" 

"No."

"Play quidditch at all?" The boy asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No." Harry said, wondering what on Earth quidditch even is.

"I do. Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house and I must say, I agree." He says snootily. "Do you know what house you'll be in yet?" 

"No." Harry says, even more confused. What's a house? Is it a place you live? _'I thought Hogwarts was a school?'_

"Well, nobody really knows until they get there, do they? But I know I'll be in Slytherin for sure. All my family has been for ages." He said proudly. "Imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" He snorted.

"Hmm." He said casually.

"You don't talk much, do you?" The boy eyed him up and down.

Harry just shifted on the spot. He didn't like people looking at him as if studying him. "I guess."

"What happened to your face?" The boy asked quite rudely. Doesn't he have any manners? Harry took in a deep breath to calm himself. 

"I was in an accident." He said casually. "Got scratched by a dog, nothing more." 

"Some dog..." The boy winced, cringing at the look of his scars.

"Hmm." Harry said nothing more, wanting this conversation to be over.

"Oh my god, look at that man!" The boy suddenly said, pointing to Hagrid who was standing outside the shop holding two ice creams and grinning.

"That's Hagrid, he works at Hogwarts." Harry spoke up, finally pleased to know something.

"Oh, I've heard of him!" The boy snapped his fingers. "He's sort of a servant, isn't he?" 

"He's the games keeper." Harry said, narrowing his eyes. He was starting to really hate this boy.

"Exactly! I heard that he's a moron who likes to set fire to his bed when he's drunk and lives in a hut." The boy laughs. 

"I think he's brilliant." Harry snapped.

"Oh, do you?" The boy sneered. "Why is he even with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead." Harry said bluntly. He didn't want to get into this topic of conversation, it was a sensitive issue. But right now he feels like punching this boy. 

"Oh, sorry..." said the boy, not sounding sincere at all. Prat. "But they were our kind, right?"

Is he serious?! What's so bad about not being a witch or wizard? Is he that arrogant?

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean." Harry glares at him. Why can't the boy take the hint that he's not in the mood?

"I just really don't think they should let the other sort in, don't you agree?" The boy says with distaste.

"Other sort?" Harry asked, eyes wide. So he really is that arrogant.

"Yeah, they've just not not been brought up to know our ways. It's not the same. Some of them haven't even heard of Hogwarts until they get their letters, I'll bet. I think we should just keep it in the old wizarding families, don't you think? No non magicals at all, their world sucks."

Harry clenched his fists. "The non magical world is just as good as the magical world. You just don't know it. And a person who hasn't heard of Hogwarts before can still go on to become a great witch or wizard." 

After all, isn't that what his mum did? She lived in the non magical world all her life until she got her Hogwarts letter and then she went on to become a fantastic and brave witch. How dare he make fun of people like his mum! 

"Pfft, I don't believe that." The boy sneered. "By the way, I never asked. What's your name?"

Before Harry could answer, Madam Malkin told him he was all done and he thanked her before jumping down off the stool and paying her. 

"See you at Hogwarts, I suppose?" The boy shouted out.

Harry said nothing as he walked out the door, sighing happily as he reached Hagrid and took the strawberry and vanilla ice cream from him. One more minute with that boy and he would have lost it. 

"Thanks Hagrid." He said, licking it.

"Sure thing. Growing boy needs ter eat." Hagrid told him with a smile. "I made sure there wasn't any chocolate on it, I know how it can upset yer stomach." He gave him a knowing look. Harry nodded at him. 

Stupid lycanthropy, even on potions, the smell of chocolate still made him sick. He dreads to think of what'll happen if he eats it. He'll probably puke everywhere.

Once they finished their ice creams, they stopped to get parchment and quills, then Harry decided to ask about quidditch. 

"Blimey Harry, I keep forgetting how little ye know." Hagrid sighed. 

"Tell me something I don't know..." he mumbled. He told Hagrid about the blonde boy from Madam Malkin's and his stupid attitude.

Hagrid's face was sour at hearing it all. He shook his head miserably the entire time. 

"Ye just ignore people like them, they've been raised the wrong way." He scoffed. "They judge people like you. And yer mum. But look at what she did." Hagrid said with a proud smile. "She went on to become the brightest witch of her age." 

"That's true." Harry said with a happy smile. "So, what is quidditch?"

“It’s our wizard sport. It’s like our version of football from the muggle world.”

“Muggle?” Harry asked with raised eyebrows.

“Muggles are terms for non magic folk.” Seeing Harry nod in understanding, he continued. “Basically, everyone follows quidditch Harry. It’s played up in the air on broomsticks and there’s four balls. It’s kinda hard ter explain the rules, I was never really into it.” 

“And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?”

“School houses, there’s four of them. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a load of duffers but-“

“Then I bet I’m in Hufflepuff.” Harry said grumpily.

“Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin.” Hagrid said darkly. Seeing Harry’s eyebrows raise, he continued. “There’s not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin.” He muttered. “You-Know-Who was one.” 

Harry personally thinks it’s a bit shallow to judge someone based on what house you’ll go to in school. Just because you go to a certain house that has certain reputation doesn’t mean you’re going to turn out a certain way. He decides to shove that thought to the side. He’ll go wherever he goes and accept that. 

They went to Flourish and Blotts to buy Harry’s school books. The shelves were sky high and he thought he’d get lost. He came across a section that included curses and grinned. 

“Yes.” He said to himself, mischievously.

Just as he was about to open a book, Hagrid took it out of his hands and shook his head.

“No point, Harry. Ye can’t curse Dudley outside of school, ye’ll get expelled for using magic on a muggle.” He said sympathetically.

Harry crossed his arms. “How’d you know I was thinking of Dudley?” 

“Because I was thinking the same.” He grinned at him. 

“Nice.” Harry smirked.

They left the book store and went to go buy a cauldron and then went to an Apothecary to get potions ingredients. Harry’s nose burned horribly at all the different smells. 

Once they were done, they took a quick look at the list one last time and saw that he only had to get his wand now. 

“And I’ve still got ter get ya a birthday present.” Hagrid said worriedly.

Harry blushed. “Hagrid, you don’t have to. You already got me a cake.” 

“But I still want to get yer something. It’s yer eleventh birthday.” Hagrid said adamantly. Harry just sighed. “I know, I’ll go get you yer animal. That’ll be yer gift.” He grinned. 

Harry nodded and walked with him to Eeylops Owl Emporium. When they walked inside, all the animals turned their heads towards him and eyed him. Harry expected this, for once.

“Hagrid, what if they don’t like me?” He asked worriedly. 

“Nonsense. Animals are very intuitive, they can sense danger an’ whose trustworthy.” He eyed him with a slight grin. “Jus’ like ye sensed there was somethin’ wrong with that kid in the shop an’ knew ye had ter get away fer him.” He raised an eyebrow. 

Harry nodded his head. “I suppose.” 

“See?” Hagrid smiled and looked around. “Now, jus’ try an’ find some kinda bond with an animal, doesn’t matter which one.” 

Harry walked around and looked at all the birds who were flapping their wings at him, the toads who were hopping away and the cats who were, as usual, hissing like mad. It wasn’t until he came across a snowy white owl that was minding its own business inside its cage that he felt something. 

It was like a nice pull inside of him, telling him _she trusts you_ and he smiled to himself. The bird cocked her head to the side and leaned forward a little bit. He ever so slowly reached out his hand and stroked it over the back of her feathers, caressing her wings. She cooed happily and flew out the cage, jumping up onto his shoulder. 

He laughed up at her and continued petting her.

“Do you like me, girl?” She let out a pleasant coo and he smiled. This right here was his familiar. 

“Brilliant, Harry!” Hagrid spoke up happily from beside him. “She trusts you, that’s great. An’ she’s so beautiful.” He smiled at the owl who cooed at the attention. Looks like she’s coming home with him then. 

Hagrid paid for his owl and he took her with him in her cage, all the way up to Ollivander’s for his wand. 

The sign on the front of the shop read, Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 383 B.C.

He walked indoors with Hagrid behind him and was immediately coughing into his hand from the amount of dust that he breathed in. 

Eventually an old man seemed to pop up out of nowhere startling him. 

“Hello.” Harry said with a small smile.

“Ah, yes, Mr Potter.” The old man said with a gleam in his eyes. “I was beginning to wonder when I’d see you here. You have your mother’s eyes, indeed. It seems as if only yesterday she was buying her own wand, ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice for charm work.” 

“Oh.” Harry nodded, trying to follow along.

The man continued. “Your father, on the other hand, he favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches, pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration.” He then chuckled to himself. “Well, when I say he favoured it, it’s really the want that chooses the wizard after all.” 

“That’s cool.” Harry said, trying to keep conversation going, so there’s no awkward silence. He doesn’t know what to say. 

Ollivander then came forward and gently touched the scar on Harry’s forehead. “And that is where I am sorry to say that I sold the wand that did it.” He sighed. “Thirteen and a half inches, yew. Very powerful wand and in the wrong hands.” He shook his head. “If I had known what that wand was going to do...” 

There was silence for a moment, before Hagrid cleared his throat. “Um.”

“Rubeus Hagrid!” Ollivander smiled. “Lovely to see you again. Oak, sixteen inches, and rather bendy, am I right?” 

“Tha’s correct.” Hagrid grinned.

“A very good wand. But they snapped it in half when you got expelled, didn’t they?” He asked with a frown.

“They did.” Hagrid said grumpily. “Still got the pieces of it, though.” He smiled. 

“But you don’t use them?” Ollivander was eyeing him up and down.

“Of course not.” Hagrid scoffed, although Harry noticed he was clutching tight at the umbrella he had in his hands.

“Right.” Suddenly, Ollivander turned on Harry. “Now tell me, which is your wand arm.” 

“I’m right handed.” Harry said as Ollivander began measuring him with tape all over his body and telling him how no two cores of any wands are the same. It was all quite interesting in a weird way.

Once he was done, he held out a wand and told him to try it. “It’s beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Give it a wave.” Harry waved it for a second before Ollivander snatched it right out of his hands. 

Okay then. 

“Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try this.” When Harry went to give it a wave too, Ollivander snatched it right out his hand yet again.

He’s kinda rude.

“Here, ebony and unicorn hair. Eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, try it out.” Harry tried but nothing was happening. He was getting frustrated.

As time went by, the pile of boxes got higher. Sometimes, the wands wouldn’t do anything and sometimes they’d smash things all together, like his shop window. Oops.

Ollivander, however, seemed to be loving it. 

“What is wrong with me?” Harry sighed, irritated.

“Nothing at all. You’re just a tricky customer.” He grinned. “We’ll find the perfect match for you soon.” He got a gleam in his eyes for a moment. “Hmm, I wonder...” he disappeared for a moment before coming back with a new wand. “Now, yes, why not, unusual combination, holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”

Harry picked up the wand and got a sudden warm feeling in his hand, all the way up his arm. It made him happy. He raised the wand above his head and red and gold sparkles shot out. “Whoa!”

Hagrid clapped for him and Mr. Ollivander smiled.

“Well done, bravo! Yes, indeed, very good.” He cheered. “Well, well, well... How curious. How very curious.” 

“What’s curious?” Harry asked confused.

“I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It just so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather, just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother, why, its brother gave you that scar.” He said pointing to Harry’s head.

Harry gulped. “That’s nice to know.”

“Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible, yes, but great.”

Harry paid for his wand and decided to get the heck out of there. This man was creeping him out. 

They both decided to stop at the Leaky Cauldron and get some food before Harry had to get home. He was already exhausted and he needed to take his potion soon.

It was as if Hagrid could tell he was tired too because he smiled sympathetically at him. “You’ll feel better in a couple of days.” He told him. 

Hagrid ordered himself a burger with chips and thankfully ordered a raw steak for Harry which made his stomach growl.

Harry was nervous that people would question his choice of food but when he looked around, he saw people eating frogs that looked like chocolate and food that made smoke blow out their ears. Okay, maybe this isn’t so bad. He’s from a muggle world, he’ll just say it’s part of the culture if anyone asks. 

Harry looked at Hagrid for a second awkwardly, but Hagrid just smiled at him. “Go on Harry, dun be shy. Ye gotta eat, remember. Dun want ter get sick.” He said seriously.

Harry nodded at him.

They ate in silence for a bit, Harry attempting not to make a mess this time around. He doesn’t want to be like Dudley. 

When they’re both done eating, Hagrid takes a sheet of parchment and starts writing out a letter to send to Hogwarts, notifying them that Harry will be joining them on September first. 

He smiles at Hagrid for that. He’s grateful for everything he’s done today. He sends it off via a little owl that’s perched about on a table, ready and waiting to be used. 

“Thank you for today, Hagrid. I had a great time, and birthday.” He grinned.

Hagrid smiled back at him with a blush on his cheeks. “Aw, it was nothin’, Harry. Just happy ter help.” He then took something out of his pocket, it was an envelope. “Go on, open it.”

Harry opened it up and inside was a ticket that read Platform 9 & 3/4. “What’s is this Hagrid?” 

“It’s yer ticket to get on the Hogwarts Express. Ye can’t miss it otherwise how else will ye get to school?” Hagrid asks with raised eyebrows. “Keep hold of it.” He said firmly.

Harry nodded and they both got up. They walked back to the train station where Harry would head back to the Dursley’s with all his stuff. 

Before he got on board, Hagrid wrapped him in a big hug. “Any problems at all, just write ter me and send the letters with yer owl. She’ll know where ter find me. And make sure to take yer potion tonight, do not forget! See ye soon.” Hagrid said with a smile and wave as Harry boarded the train and left the station. 

Only one more month with the Dursley’s and he can finally say goodbye to them and go be in a place where he’ll hopefully feel happier, filled with magic and people like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and leave kudos if you like what you read <3


End file.
